(The house of two little ladies in
California. One is checking the
internet.)
LADY
1
Hot
tea, Donna?
LADY
2
But
it’s after 7, dear.
LADY
1
Are
you playing that jewel game again?
LADY
2
No;
I’m looking for that website.
LADY
1
Oh,
it’s gone, I think.
LADY
2
I’m
afraid you’re right.
LADY
1
You’ll
have to read the old ones.
LADY
2
It’s
a shame.
(LADY 2 turns away from her
computer.)
LADY
1
’You
sure you don’t want tea?
(LADY 2 shakes her head.)
LADY
2
You
know, Carol kept some nice journals.
LADY
1
I’d
heard that.
LADY
2
I
saw them. So much writing. There must have been more than fifty. And they were that black-and-white kind,
bound like books.
LADY
1
I
know what you mean---
LADY
2
Crammed
with writing. ’You know her writing?
LADY
1
Yes,
small.
LADY
2
(Agreeing)
Tight. All her memories---from the ’60s and ’70s and
on.
LADY
1
Even
the ’50s, you think?
LADY
2
Possible. What do you think happened to those
journals? Do you think they got saved?
LADY
1
With
her family? Oh no. Not with the things she’d have written.
LADY
2
But
they weren’t dirty . . .
LADY
1
Still, she and Frannie . . .
LADY
2
I
miss Frannie.
(Pause)
Did
you ever keep journals?
LADY
1
I
don’t see the point.
LADY
2
I
used to. But I threw mine away.
(LADY 2 turns back to the computer.)
LADY 2 (Continued)
I’m
going to type a letter to the lady who runs the website.
LADY
1
What will you say?
LADY
2
I’ll say that we like
the stories and miss them. I’ll word it kindly.
LADY
1
Well
. . . ’can’t hurt.
(LADY 2 types. FADE OUT.)
(FADE
IN. Elsewhere, MRS. HO receives a
kindly-worded missive from
Pasadena. She
reads it, looks off into the beyond, considers, and presses
delete.)
END OF “TREMORS.”
(MRS. HO sits at the kitchen
table. She is fixing up little parts of
a diorama
that her son made. Her
daughter, SUNNY, sits at the table with her.
SUNNY
is bisecting a quark.)
(A stone flies through the
window. MRS. HO shudders.)
MRS.
HO
(To SUNNY)
Will
you sweep up the glass?
(SUNNY packs up her quark into a
sewing case.)
SUNNY
I
want nothing to do with any of it. This
is your game, Mother.
(SUNNY goes out back to walk in the
woods.)
(MRS. HO tries to work. She starts to fix the eye on a little man,
but makes a
mistake. The breeze from the
broken window is too brisk.)
(A LUNATIC lumbers in. She foams.
MRS. HO looks up and huffs.)
LUNATIC
I’m
gonna slit your throat---
MRS.
HO
You
are not---
LUNATIC
You
see lights go funny when your life slips away?
MRS.
HO
Lower
your voice.
LUNATIC
Blood drip onto your nice floor?
MRS.
HO
I
have had enough!
(MRS. HO rises and disables the LUNATIC.)
MRS. HO (Continued)
I
won’t be threatened! I won’t be
fooled! I won’t be convinced!
(She blows cayenne in the other
woman’s eyes. She sits back down.)
MRS. HO (Continued)
If
you don’t know already, Mrs. Ho does what she wants! And nobody frightens or stops her!
(She goes back to her work.)
(A young AUTHORESS approaches her
PATRON.)
AUTHORESS
I
want to know why I’ve been replaced.
PATRON
What
do you mean, replaced?
AUTHORESS
I
saw what was published last week. In my
name.
PATRON
Did
you enjoy it?
(The AUTHORESS
glowers.)
PATRON (Continued)
I
don’t care what we print. I’m not a writer.
(The AUTHORESS exits. A stone flies through the window.)
(My teacher says that overheard voices can be more interesting than what we
make up ourselves. I doubt it.)
(A WOMAN dials the phone.)
WOMAN
Yes,
hello . . . I have a complaint to make about your sign . . . Your sign.
The one in front of your building . . . Yes; on the sign, it says,
“NEW,” but the “W” is really just an “M” turned upside down . . . I don’t
know---“NEW TACOS” or something---but the point is that the “W” is just an “M”
turned upside down . . .
I’m calling to say that I liked the “W” the first time, when it was
an “M.” Thank you.
(She hangs up.)
END OF EPISODE 18.
