Cornwall. 17th June 2014. 17.00pm – Kick off.

Hazel, 94, is sat alone on the sofa, as she has been all day.

She hears the front door open and close. She sits bolt upright as Barbara, 96, enters the living room, a tiny plastic bag in her hand.

HAZEL: Barbara, I’m so sorry about yesterday during the USA game. I didn’t mean to-

BARBARA: Hazel, hush. I understand. We are adults. I can forgive you.

HAZEL: Oh, thank-

BARBARA: IF…!

HAZEL: If…?

BARBARA: You do one thing for me.

HAZEL: Oh, sure, anything.

BARBARA: As you know, I’m part Belgian.

HAZEL: I didn’t, but go on.

BARBARA: And as you know, the Belgian people are a proud people

HAZEL: Right

BARBARA: Who believe in great traditions

HAZEL: OK

BARBARA: And when we enter a path of forgiveness, the person we wish to forgive must perform one act for us.

HAZEL: …Which is?

Barbara raises the tiny plastic bag.

BARBARA: Hold a dog poo for 10 seconds.

HAZEL: Piss off!

BARBARA: Do you not wish for forgiveness.

HAZEL: Hold a dog poo?

BARBARA: Yes.

HAZEL: Really?

BARBARA: Yes, do not mock the great Belgian tradition-

HAZEL: OK, OK, I’m sorry. Pass it here.

Barbara opens the bag and tips the poo onto Hazel’s hand.

Hazel winces, trying to look relaxed.

Five seconds in, Barbara smirks.

HAZEL: This isn’t a great Belgian tradition, is it?

BARBARA: No

HAZEL: You’re not Belgian, are you?

BARBARA: No

HAZEL: (Hopeful) This isn’t dog poo…?

BARBARA: No

Hazel looks relieved.

BARBARA: Unless a Barbara is a breed of dog…

© Carl Burkitt 2014