Small talk
Small talk
She is reading. He stares into space. She notices.
Her (surprised) – What are you looking at that way ?
Him – TV…
Her – But we don’t have one anymore !
Him (with a sigh) – I know, but… It’s like if my legs had been amputated and I still had pins and needles in my feet…
She stares at him, and then goes back to her book. After a while, she looks at him again.
Her – It’s weird, today, I received a call for you on my mobile…
Him – Oh, yes, sorry, I forgot to tell you. I put your phone number on my answering machine at the office, so people I work with can join me during the holidays…
Her – The holidays ? But it’s a week from now !
Him – Well… At least, they have it.
Her (staggered) – My mobile phone number !? And meanwhile, for a whole week, I’m going to receive calls from « people you work with »…?
Him – I don’t know… Tell them to call me back during the holidays…
Her – Don’t you think it would have been easier for you to get one ?
Him – Me !? A mobile ! When I’m not at work, I like people to leave me alone. I don’t want them to bother me…
Her – So you prefer that they bother me !? I was right in the middle of a disciplinary committee at college, when a guy called me to ask when I – I mean when you – planned to submit your article titled « The wearing of G-string in the workplace is a human right » ? Don’t you think it doesn’t bother me ?
Him – You don’t switch off your mobile during disciplinary committees ?
Her (ironical) – Sorry, I forgot… Listen, a mobile is something very personal. You cannot lend it to anybody. Even your husband. I don’t know how to explain… It’s like a toothbrush…
Him – A toothbrush ? Well… If you want to use my toothbrush during the holidays, no problem…
Her – Well, a computer, then ! Would you let me use your computer if mine was disabled by a virus ?
He does not answer.
Her – And after the holidays ?
He seems not to understand.
Her – I’ll still receive calls for you !? It’s a good thing you don’t have anything to hide…
Him – After the holidays, I’ll tell them that I lost this bloody phone. Or even better, that it was stolen from me ! Mobiles are often stolen…
Her – Perfect ! That way, if somebody reaches me anyway, he will call me a thief ! Do I have to remind you that this phone is mine ?!
Him – Well, if you prefer, you can let me have it. And you can buy another one…
Her – Of course ! And then, when the people I know will call me, they’ll get in touch with you…
Him – I’ll give them your new number, and that’s all…
Her – You’re right, it’s much easier than you simply buying a phone for yourself.(Suspicious) Don’t tell me you’re using mine just to spare you the trouble…?
He does not answer. Silence.
Him – You’ll never guess what the butcher called me this morning…
Apparently, she doesn’t care.
Him – « Young man »… (Imitating the butcher) « And for the young man, what will it be today ? ». It’s the first time he’s called me that…
Her – Well, it’s the male equivalent of » And for the young lady, what will it be today ».
Him – It’s scary, isn’t it, that the butcher could see us as « the young man and the young lady » ? It’s a good thing that we don’t go shopping together. He would be able to call us « the young couple ». (Imitating again the butcher) « And for the young couple, what will it be today ? ». Then, I think I would become a vegetarian on the spot.
Silence.
Him – Anyway, I’ve always found meat a little disgusting, haven’t you ?
Back to her book, she doesn’t answer. But he proceeds all the same.
Him – Chicken, at a push… True, it’s scary, a butcher’s shop, if you think about it. Bleeding flesh spread out everywhere. Entire animal carcasses in the cold room. All those innocent cows locked up in camps in the countryside, surrounded by barbed wire, sometimes even electrified; waiting to be dragged out to the slaughterhouse and be cut up… Poor beasts. At least, they don’t know what’s going to happen to them. When I see those huge guys, with those kind of white shrouds on their heads, taking the bodies of their victims out of the refrigerator truck, carrying them on their shoulders… Looks like the Ku Klux Klan…
She still does not react. He turns to her.
Him – Did you know that sikhs were strictly vegetarian ?
She finally looks up.
Her – Oh, by the way, no need to go to the department store for a bathroom neon. I dropped in this afternoon. (After a while) I came across our neighbour from in front. She was buying a huge suitcase…
He looks at her, seeming not to understand. A mobile rings. She answers.
Her – Yes…?
Her smile vanishes.
She (with pretend amiability) – No, this is his secretary speaking, but hold on a second, I’ll patch you through right away. Whom do I have to announce ? (She holds the phone out to him, exasperated) It’s for you. Your buddy Peter…
He takes the phone as if nothing had happened.
Him – Hello !
He seems to be a little embarrassed.
Him – How does this thing work anyway…?
Chers Compatriotes, mes vœux seront moitié plus courts que d’habitude, car en ce 31 décembre à 20 heures, il y a état d’urgence et le temps nous est compté. Pour commencer, j’ai une dinde qui m’attend à la maison, et elle est plutôt dure à cuire. J’ai peut-être vu un peu grand : je ne suis même pas sûr de réussir à la faire entrer dans le four en un seul morceau. Quoi qu’il en soit, à raison d’une heure de cuisson par kilo, je ne pourrais sans doute pas me la taper avant la mi-janvier. Bon, oublions cette grosse dinde et revenons à nos moutons, c’est à dire vous, mes chers compatriotes. Mon devoir en tant que Chef de l’État, est de vous alerter sur la situation catastrophique de notre pays au moment où je vous parle. Lorsque cette année a commencé, elle comptait 365 jours. Il n’en reste plus qu’un seul aujourd’hui. C’est dire si le déficit de la France continue à se creuser inexorablement de jour en jour, année après année. Rassurez-vous, je viens de prier Dieu afin que, dans son immense miséricorde, il nous accorde dès demain une nouvelle ligne de crédit de quelques mois. Mais je dois vous avertir : la France ne peut pas continuer à dépenser ainsi son temps sans compter. C’est pourquoi j’ai décidé, à partir du premier janvier, de ne plus remplacer qu’un jour sur deux partant aux oubliettes. L’année qui vient ne comptera donc que six mois. Elle commencera le premier janvier pour s’achever le 30 juin, date à laquelle je me présenterai à nouveau devant vous pour vous souhaiter la bonne année. Certes, je conçois que ces changements, dont la France a tant besoin, vous demanderont quelques efforts d’adaptation. Mais rassurez-vous, en raison du réchauffement général de la planète, vous ne verrez bientôt plus la différence entre les saisons, et toutes les années vous paraîtront identiques. C’est à peine si celles qui ne comporteront aucun été vous sembleront un peu plus pourries que les autres. En parfaite cohérence avec cette réforme, qui aura aussi le mérite de doubler le rendement de tous les impôts recouvrés annuellement par l’État, j’ai par ailleurs décidé d’une mesure forte : la suppression du passage de l’heure d’été à l’heure d’hiver, qui depuis des années divisait la Nation. Désormais, il n’y aura plus qu’une seule heure, mais six mois par an seulement ! Mes Chers compatriotes, je vous souhaite une excellente demi-année. Je crois au bon côté de la force, et je ne vous quitterai pas. Vive la République des moutons et à moitié vive la France