SAFE — page 2

WILSON: (Off, from the direction Tyrell keeps looking towards) Tyrell you lazy git! You’re supposed to be clearing that crap, not studying it. Shift yourself, it’s free flow in ten minutes.

TYRELL: (To Wilson, in a strong ‘Wigga’ accent) It’s Ty-rell innit?

WILSON: (Also in accent) Wig-ga..! (Own voice) Don’t let Garcia’s black boys catch you eh?

(Ryker a young black man, same age and uniform as Tyrell, enters from the opposite direction pulling a four-wheel barrow filled with rubbish and with a shovel on top. He has no interest in what he is doing. He watches Tyrell.)

RYKER: Expecting some air mail man?

TYRELL: (Looking up and down the length of the wall.) Fuck off Ryker.

RYKER: Share it about yeah?

TYRELL: Share fuck all with you innit?

RYKER: (Losing interest in Tyrell) No one does that stupid shit anymore.

(At that moment the seagull drops between them, but some distance downstage away from the wall. They both stare at it for a moment, then at each other.)


RYKER: Fuck!

(Galvanised into activity, Tyrell begins sweeping, pushing a pile of rubbish closer to the gull. Ryker stares at Tyrell and they both cast looks off.)

WILSON: (Off.) What the bloody hell was that!?

TYRELL: Seagull, fucking dive bomber.

(Tyrell dives for the bird and is holding it.)

RYKER: He’s coming over!