The Thing That Isn’t on the List
(A stationery shop on Beckett Street, ten minutes before closing. Term starts tomorrow.)
Connor: Sorry. I know you’re closing.
Marilyn: Go on. Read me the list.
Connor: Two exercise books, a ruler—
Marilyn: A4 books, not A5. Behind you, second shelf.
Connor: How do you know it’s A4?
Marilyn: Forty of you have read me that list today. What’s next? Glue?
Connor: Glue. And scissors.
Marilyn: One glue stick, and the round scissors. Have you got a pencil case at home?
Connor: There’s one somewhere.
Marilyn: Buy a new one. Somewhere means no.
(She puts everything on the counter.)
Connor: And the maths textbook?
Marilyn: The school gives him that one. Don’t buy it.
Connor: Okay. So that’s the list.
Marilyn: That’s the list. Now buy the thing that isn’t on it.
Connor: Which is?
Marilyn: A cheap watch. He can’t use his phone in lessons, and he’s got five rooms to find tomorrow.
Connor: That’s not on the list.
Marilyn: It never is. They’re by the door, four pounds.
(Connor takes one off the hook.)
Connor: Do you do this for everyone?
Marilyn: Only for the ones who come in ten minutes before closing.