‘Hard day at work, dear?’ Jennifer asked kindly, as Colin slumped down in his favourite arm chair.
‘I’ll say,’ he replied, ‘I’m cream-crackered.’
The front door slammed.
‘Is he going in or out?’ Colin asked, referring to their son who walked past the patio doors and waved.
‘He’s off out,’ Jennifer replied.
‘Why doesn’t he pull his jeans up properly?’
‘It’s the fashion, dear, they all wear them like that.’
‘He’ll never get a job dressed like that.’
‘I’m not sure he wants a job. You know he’s waiting to see if he can get on that DJ course.’
‘DJ course? And who’s going to pay for that, then?’
‘Well I suppose we will. He doesn’t cost us a lot, he hardly ever eats here, and he doesn’t make much washing.’
‘You can say that again, he must have had those same jeans on for weeks.’
‘Oh, Colin, you’ll always on his case. You know he has an allergy to detergent.’
‘An allergy to work, more like.’
‘Maybe only if it’s in a detergent factory!’
Ha ha! A mother willing to make excuses, a father sunk in his paper and armchair - very good. The dialogue flowed naturally, and such was the characterization that speech markers were not needed. Well done.
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