A Trivial Enquiry.

A play of one act, one set.

A Melbourne story.

Characters..:

Peter Haffney..; mid fifties, portly build, congenial nature.

Stephanie..; Peter’s wife…sardonic in an amusing way..more observant than participant.

Scene..Kitchen of a working-class suburban house..minimal decorations..more efficient than cluttered with ornaments.The dialogue in this play is of the main character (Peter) talking calmly and confidingly in a one-on-one relaxed manner to the audience as if they were a trusted friend in the room with him.

(Peter Haffney takes his latch-key from the deadlock and closes the front door behind him. He pauses inside the entrance as one is want to do when first coming home and looks about.  reassuring himself that everything was as when he left it that morning. An air of suburban mustiness pervades the house and the dreary silence echos the polished rustle of his suit. He then proceeds to the kitchen pantry and easing his portly bulk between the ironing board and bench top he places a plastic shopping bag with several regular sized cans of food on the bench nearest the pantry. Taking one of the cans from the bag, he raises it to eye level and reads the label ( using his index finger as guide on the label so the audience can see what he is doing). On satisfactory completion of this task, he shakes his head slowly and sighs. Taking a similar sized can from the pantry, he places it next to the other on the kitchen bench and compares…).

Peter : ( looks at the cans as he speaks) “The brand’s the same, the content’s the same, even the advertising slogan is the same, but they’ve changed the layout of the label! Gone is the old familiar label that has for more years than I can remember, been the hallmark of the company’s product. That label, it could be said, is of greater recognizable value than the product contained within the can! ….that old familiar label must have been the same since before I was born! But now that’s all gone and, heaven forbid, perhaps too they have changed the mix of ingredients in the product…”(he sighs…then turns to confide to the audience..not directly, but rather as if talking to a confident in a relaxed, over-the-shoulder casual way).

 “ And sure..I’m worried, because for many years, because for a goodly part my life, I have suffered from what is called a “obsessive-compulsive disorder”. My peculiar obsession is concerned with the cooking and eating of food..(he throws his arms up) I confess..I confess..I will never eat any food that I have not myself prepared, with the exception of fish and chips…I like fish and chips.. And though this condition may seem humorous to other people, it can single out the victim..ME!..for mischievous mockery. I have been many a time made the butt of poor-taste humour. For instance, although I will never eat any food my wife would prepare, I do bend this rule for a roast dinner..my mother always had the Sunday roast…but I have to guard my portion at the table against mischief…such as : If anyone was to touch my food, never mind with a finger!..heaven forbid that! but with just a clean knife or fork, I can’t help but sweep the corrupted article off my plate with a flick of the fork…so on a really bad day, bits of roast would be hitting the walls or television or whatever till I give a cry of exasperation and the protagonists buckle over in convulsions of laughter! Such is the life of us that suffer this malady. Because of this complaint, my mainstay of nutrition from Mondays to Fridays is canned spaghetti on toast! Saturdays are fish and chip days….Sundays are..well if my wife is cooking one ; roast day otherwise…you guessed it ; canned spaghetti on toast!

But now, all this is thrown into disarray with the discovery that “the company” has changed the label and perhaps, the ingredients! Fortunately (he opens the door to the pantry, displaying a supply of the canned products) I have kept up a supply of cans to allow a week’s ration of meals…in case a family member takes a liking to spaghetti on toast . So all is not lost, I still have a week to sort this nagging doubt out….I shall write to the company seeking reassurance.”

(A gentle beam of afternoon light shines through the lounge window , Peter folds back the top sheet of writing paper and places the pad squarely in front of himself. He then sits and thinks..while he is thinking, he carefully sharpens and examines the point of his pencil..he turns to the audience and explains)..

P  : “You see, I always write with a sharp-tipped, “Staedtler” “Bl” pencil, preferring it to a ball-point as it is not likely to clumsily “slip over” the paper and make for illegible writing.”

(The house, except for himself, is empty. It exudes that unexciting silence that is common to outer suburban houses…nothing extraordinary would ever happen there and was tinged with the stale mustiness of yesterday’s air-freshener. Peter touched the tip of the pencil to the tip of his tongue and begins..speaking the words as he writes)

P : “Dear Sir/ Madam.

I am writing to you to make a small….perhaps a trivial…enquiry. For many years, I have held your product above others on the market as being greatly superior in quality and flavour .Indeed, I have travelled great distances to full-fill my obligation to purchase your product when the local supermarket was not able to supply your particular brand! However, recently, when purchasing my usual supply from the supermarket, I was astonished to be informed that you had changed the layout of the label! Upon inquiry if there had been some sort of mistake, I was reassured by the proprietor that this was indeed so! Though he hastened to add that the ingredients were the same, I was far from reassured! So I am writing to you seeking that reassurance and I don’t think I can exaggerate the importance of this reassurance required to myself!

I , fortunately, have a number of cans of your product (see the accompanying label) to see me through another week. So I would appreciate a swift response to this letter (may I suggest return post?) to reassure me of your continued high standard of ingredients.

I await, in anticipation, for your reply…may it be favorable…

Yours truly… Peter Haffney. “

(Peter gazes at the finished letter with a sense of satisfaction.)

P : “There..it says no more nor no less than I wish to say, written in clear, concise script taught to me by my primary teacher : Mrs Herreen, who enforced a high standard from her star pupil (flutters his eyebrows in a humerous manner) with the aid of a flat, slim,wooden foot-rule that would cut over my knuckles when a grammatical deviation was observed by the attentive Mrs Herreen gazing sternly over my shoulder! Even the underlining of words were encouraged by that same teacher, with the logic that : (he mimics a stern but shrill female teacher’s voice)“It does no harm to the correspondence, Peter, if you draw the reader’s a-ttention to a par-tic-ular point you wish to em-phasise by the use of underlining speh-cific words or phrases in nee-ed of their a-ttention!” and she would invariably finish her homily with a steely gaze over her glasses down the pointed rule.”

( Peter pauses to gaze into the empty lounge area…he cogitates out loud..)

P : “But when you think on it, there’s a mathematical precision in the action of writing, isn’t there? Perhaps this obsessive affliction itself is a result of conflict of reason versus reality…Perhaps the fact that the uncertainties of life do not adhere to my own personal desired situation, has resulted in the withdrawal of my eating habits to a more precise routine…a routine that I have complete control over. ( Peter pauses, sits back in the chair and croses his lower legs in contemplation) A cabinet maker I know is the same type. His obsession is with jokes and satirical humour, he simply cannot stop telling them..heaven knows where he gets them all from…customers, he says.. His over-exuberant laughter rings through the rafters on all occasions and he is known by his laugh, his nickname being ; “The HO! HO! man”…but that does not really disguise his mathematical brilliance…and it becomes most visible in his skills with the chessboard, even at state level competition. That and his swift response to subtle mockery. He too, controls his lifestyle through his obsessions, and with these obsessions, I believe we distract and distance ourselves from too close a familiarity with the unruly chaos of life.”

(Stage darkens to relight with Peter and his wife standing at the kitchen bench..she looks at him with a concerned expression and speaks..)

Stephanie : “You’re not giving up smoking and your football team’s on a winning streak You’re breaking even at cards, though you lost a little at the dogs the other night so I’m buggered if I know what’s eating you….but you’re out of sorts this last couple of days.”

P : “It’s nothing, nothing….I…I’m on a bit of a diet.”

(His wife lets out an explosive guffaw..)

S : “That’ll be the day! ” (she narrows her eyes cunningly) “You haven’t been tucking into your spaghetti on toast the last couple of days..I’ve noticed that….what’s the prob’, love.. can’t find the can opener?…got worms?..”

P : “Look , piss off love!..it’s nothing..leave me be, I’ve just been making a little inquiry…that’s all.”

S : “But you’ve got some cans…”(she moves to the pantry and takes out a can..)”Why, look!” They’ve changed the label…. crikey, after all these years… ” (she gazed pensively at the can. Peter comes and takes it gently from her hand and places it with the others on the shelf.)

P : “So they’ve changed the label?…so what?…it’s their label they can do what they want with their label ”

(His wife watches him closely while he mumbles this little discourse. She suddenly let her jaw drop a little as it all dawned on her..)

S : “Oh, I see…the label!…The label has changed….ok! ok!…but what of the ingredients?….That’s why you’ve not been hoeing into it this week! and I thought you were coming down with something…ha! ha!…you poor bastard!…ha! ha!”

P : “Don’t let it worry you, love..don’t let it worry you….I’ve made inquiries and I expect an answer any day now!”

(But his wife doesn’t look as if she is worried at all… as a matter of fact she has to ease herself into a chair so as not to crumple up with laughter…Peter reflects, wincing at the humiliation he would suffer when this new one got around.)

S : “Oh! you poor suffering dear..” (his wife speaks between gulps of breath, then the look of comical angst on his face set her off onto another round of laughter.)

( Stage darkens to relight on the same domestic scene. Peter walks in through the doorway from work with a bundle of letters in his hand. He is thoughtfully sorting through the mail when his wife asks)

S : “Anything there for me, love? (then in an aside to the audience..) I already know the contents of the mailbox…I had looked before and I saw the brand-name letter amongst the others and I decided to leave them in the box for Peter to find.”.(she winks to the audience).

P : “Yes…yes a couple the usual bills”…(here his eyes widen in anticipation.)

(His wife watches from a sly vantage point in the lounge as he slit the envelope with his pocket-knife. Peter is a study in silence as he reads the letter…then, slowly, his eyes closed with delight and an ecstatic smile spread over his lips.)

S : “Anything else?”.

P : “Oh….yes, one for me.”

S : “Important?”

P : “Well..sort of…just a reply to a trivial inquiry”.

(upon completion of the read, Peter methodically tears the letter into very small pieces and places them into the waste-bin. Next, whistling a little self satisfied tune to himself he goes to the pantry and takes out a now familiar can. His wife spies this little pantomime from her vantage point in the lounge and shakes her head smiling to herself.)

S : “The poor dear” she says to herself.

End of play.