BROTH BITCH, Sunday, 2063

Character note: NIKKI is a 80 year-old-woman. We’re now 22 years on from Saturday’s podcast.

Format note: This is a fictional podcast and the following text is all performed as an audio piece.

Script

NIKKI is in her kitchen. The door is open. As NIKKI speaks, we can hear some of the sounds of the

outside coming in. It’s a nice day.

NIKKI: Hey, bitches. Bitch? Bitches?

Nikki. Nikki. Nikki Sukpraserit here.

Pause.

NIKKI: Sunday. October 25th. 2063. Sunday Sunday.

Question time today.

You’ve sent me questions. Now. I answer.

And. Today, today there’s just the one. The one email. Again.

Ella. Ella de Fazio.

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 Hello.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. What are you doing right now?

I’m sitting, Ella. Resting. Inside. The sun’s out. It’s a nice day out there.

[Reading.] Nikki. Are you cooking today?

I’ve got. Yep. Yes. It’s my turn to cook so I’ve made soup. Tom Yum. A version of.

We’ll eat it for lunch today.

The other girls are in the garden. Your mum too. And Deliah.

I got. I asked Deliah to help. Granny’s little helper.

She’s picking weeds. Fresh weeds. Dandelion. For the soup.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. How do you feel today? Out of ten?

Seven. Eight? Thereabouts. You?

I’m drinking enough water. There are leaves in the water tank. But we—all the girls

here, we love the taste. It tastes good, it tastes like the earth.

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 But there’s this filter—the filter thingy thingy. All the buttons, the settings. Poppy

bought it for me—dropped it off this morning. She said. She said Deliah doesn’t like

the clay taste of the water here. But. No. I know she does. Granny knows.

I don’t know yet. If I’ll use. Poppy’s filter thingy. Maybe.

Pause.

NIKKI: How do you feel today, Ella?

Are you eating well?

Where are you? Is it sunny?

Pause.

NIKKI: Your mum would love to know.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. Are you thankful?

Yes.

[Reading.] Nikki. How do you stay thankful?

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 I take. I stop. I sit a lot. I have. There are many. I say thank you. Thank you bed. Thank

you cup. Blah blah. Little things. But. That’s good. That’s ok.

This is a nice house to be in, to grow old in. I’m. And Deliah likes the yard.

[Reading.] Nikki. Do you bitch? A lot? A little?

Of course. I bitch. I do. We all do. This morning, just this morning. Someone in the

bathroom. Just. A mess. One of the other girls. Maybe I was. Your mum said I was

terse.

She’s the fucking messiest. Of all us. She’s. Fucking flatmates.

But sometimes. Yep. Of course.

I bitch.

Pause.

NIKKI: Have you. You listened to my old podcasts again, Ella? ‘First we say thanks, then we

bitch’.

Pause.

NIKKI: I was listening. Actually. To myself. Going through it again. The podcasts. Dipped in.

Dipping. From the start, skipped a few years. Then went back. The ones at the start. I

was a fucking charming asshole back then, Ella.

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 This is—this soup I’m making today. Like the Tom Yum I used to. An homage. A version

of. The weeds out there actually. Actually they’re acidic. Gives the soup the sourness.

Out there. Deliah’s filled a basket. Your mum’s got. An umbrella out, for shade.

One day, Ella. There’s always a spare seat at the table. Come for soup.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. How is she?

How is she? Your mum?

She’s ok. Your mum’s tired. So am I.

[Reading.] Has she pissed you off today?

Yes. Once or twice.

[Reading.] Nikki. Does she still talk non-stop for 24 hours?

She sings. In Italian. Sometimes.

Are they songs you’d know?

[Reading.] Nikki. Do you think she’s a criminal?

She served her time.

She paid her fines.

And she’s not wealthy. She’s living here, in a share-house.

Ella, it’s nothing fancy here.

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 [Reading.] Nikki. Do you think she’s a narcissist?

No.

[Reading.] Nikki. Do you think she’s brilliant?

No.

[Reading.] Nikki. Why did you forgive her for ruining your life?

She didn’t ruin my life.

I never. Did it come across that way?

I.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. Does anyone listen to this podcast? Is it just me?

I’m ok with that, Ella.

One subscriber. One million.

I’m ok.

Pause.

NIKKI: Ella.

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 She’s dreaming of you so much.

The day you left. It re-plays. Again and again. We’ll talk about it. Until. Until. It’s like I

was in that house. Your house in Italy. Like I was in that house when you walked out.

Past the guards.

Into the car.

Your Mum. She fucking. She hates those dreams.

So she makes herself stay up. Awake.

Pause.

NIKKI: She looks tired out there.

It’s the heat too.

Pause.

NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki. I’m stopping. I’ve loved writing these emails. Listening to you answer. I

know she’s listening in when you record. Maybe I like that. Of course I like that.

There’s a desert I want to walk through, and a forest to walk through, and a creek to

walk through. This past year I’ve stayed in a city but I think I have to keep going.

Because I still doubt myself, I doubt the direction I took, I doubt everything, I hate

everything, I feel too many things, I feel stuck yet too free and too loose.

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 Soon, maybe, I’m not sure, I’ll come back to her. If she’s with you, there, I’ll know where

to find her.

Pause.

NIKKI: Ella. Can I tell you one more thing about her?

Because you never—you didn’t ask. And if you’ve been listening to the podcasts, from

the start. Maybe. You could. You might have the wrong idea.

I met her—I met your mum under a tree. Her share-house, like this one we live in,

really. With a big oak in the backyard—can you imagine that? Big trees? Ancient,

broad. Branches big. All the leaves—it was winter. The leaves on the ground. Piling up.

Your mum’s stove was fucked so I couldn’t—I had to improvise. I’d seen the bbq out

the back. I went to turn it on. But then. And then, I bent down, I looked. I looked into

the cavities of the bbq. I saw a baby bird, in a nest. Your mum came out. She helped.

We put the bird, its nest—where did we? We went on the internet, across forums, rang

numbers, talked to a bunch of people, bird people. Someone, the right person. They

came and took the bird away. Your mum and I, we both were crying. The soup wasn’t

even done and we both—we were crying.

She’s a sister to me.

Pause.

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NIKKI: [Reading.] Nikki, please keep up these podcasts.

I hope you do.

Bye for now,

Ella

Pause.

NIKKI: Bye.

Pause.

The sounds of nature become louder.

NIKKI: Broth: water, salt, pepper. Onions, if you can find them. Leeks would be nice. The

broth. Water. Salt. Pepper. Simmer. Simmer.

Shit that goes in it: sautéed weeds, big big handful of them, dandelion roots.

A low thrum starts.

NIKKI: [Calling out.] Deliah. Rosa. Come in for soup. Bring the weeds.

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The thrum increases in volume and then stops.

End.

CREDITS: Broth Bitch

‘Sunday—Weeds’

Written by Michele Lee

Directed by Ming-Zhu Hii

Dramaturgy by Jessica Bellamy

Performed by Maia Thomas

Sound design and composition by Russell Goldsmith

With support from Australia Council, Melbourne Fringe Festival and Vitalstatistix

Made on Wurundjeri land, always is, always will be Aboriginal country

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