1. Their youngest son of 4 found nothing more delightful than to switch the light on and off. He did that throughout the day and throughout the house. But especially in his own bedroom. Whether this was the cause of it all cannot be established definitely, but the fact is that one day the light bulb (when these were still in the trade) from the ceiling of his room burst into a thousand pieces. Switched on and off too often was Daddies hypothesis. And he should know because his job had something to with electricity or some such thing. The youngest son of 4 as a matter of fact was not even in the room when it happened, it was Daddy himself who switched on the lamp and caused the little explosion. Luckily, the fragments were not flung about too far away, stopped in their flight by the paper lampshade from Sweden. It was fortunate for otherwise Daddy might have got hurt! Also, fortunately, the youngest son of 4 was not there. Actually, where was he anyway? With one side of his slipper Dad wiped the pieces of glass aside and then reached up to remove the lamp shade. A simple little task. Removing the light bulb, however, was quiet a different thing. There was not much left of the lamp itself so he had to touch the lamp fitting. Dad was a wise and careful man. So he first flipped off the light switch and then opened the curtains wide open so he would have enough light. And now to business! But that was easier said than done. The lamp had been screwed in damn tight and he needed both hands to try to get the blasted thing out of the socket. And look, there the youngest son of 4 had also popped up in the room. Dad had all his attention to the work at hand so there was nothing to stop the boy. Click!

(Rotten luck for Daddy of course, but it is much worse for the son of 4, who still has his whole life ahead of him.)

2. Mary was lying blissfully in the bath. There was a little too much foam perhaps but just for once that was not bad. The surplus she wantonly had dropped on the bathroom tiles in big fluffy clouds. She hummed along to a pop song from the sixties that came out of the radio. The radio was on the radiator, a short distance away from the bath. She lay there in splendour and delight and, so, it was a shock when the lights went out. And not just in the bathroom but in the entire house! Because through the upper window of the bathroom door, she saw that the hall was dark too. And the radio was silent. From outside, through the blinds came some of the street light but it was not much because they lived at the 10th floor. “Dirk, can you switch the fuse back on?” she cried out. And then again: “Dirk?!”. Dirk knew about these things. Actually, where was Dirk anyway? “Dirk!” she cried again. What was he doing? It couldn´t be the internet because that would be turned off as well of course. She stood up, impatiently and therefore a bit too fast and she slipped on the smooth bottom of the tub. Involuntarily her hand reached out to hold on to something but it only found the radio on her way. And so the radio fell into the water, just as Mary did. Meanwhile, Dirk had found the fuse box. Click!

(I first wanted to include some erotic descriptions to the initial bath scene, but then again, come on, I am no longer 14 years old!)

3. “Are you well?” they had asked. As if that mattered. On the other side of the glass is a man with a control panel. And here I am. Yes, here I am, in the recording studio, ready to record another big blockbuster. A catch tune with catchy lyrics over a catchy rhythm. I am waiting only for the sign of the man behind the glass to indicate that the tape is in motion. And then I´ll sing. Do not forget to breathe. Yes, keep on thinking like that, I think, it will be easier that way. But then it is too late of course. As soon as I am aware of my deception, the heavy feeling in my chest and stomach is back again. Actually, where am I anyway? The man on the other side of the glass is not alone. The family of the girl is also invited. And the family of the boy too. Here in South Carolina, families are so large that they had to put in an extra bank so that everyone could sit. “One final word?” asks the man on the other side of the glass. But I cannot speak and not a single word reaches my mouth. A last sob. I see his hand move. Click!

(True story.)

dutch version

spanish version


3 thoughts on “Click

  1. Pingback: Clic « Dinzo!

  2. Pingback: Klik « Dat is niet zo!

  3. Eva

    Machiel! I liked the three stories about the click, you could do a series about it … even I think you could make a series of shortfilms . The most original is the last.

    I firmly believe you’ve found the script for your first shortfilm! When do you want to begin with it?



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