I did this dialogue sketch after hearing a man (a depressed furbee) read at a writing circle. I love the way he skirts around and never quite settles on anything.
“I used to live in a place called 12 Claire Road(it’s on the outskirts), a large house of big proportions (Victorian affair if you know what I mean) with brick wall on the outside which were cold in the winter (something to do with fire flues or something). Large windows which didn’t let enough sunlight in (very dark especially on dull days). The street was in a cu-de-sac (dead end, you know, no way through) so few people, if any at all walked past (my wife chose it I don’t think… Well that’s not important, if you, well you know…). I lived there with three cats called Thomas, George and Zuzi. Thomas was a tabby. George was black and white. And Zuzi too though with one ear a different colour. They all had strong characters and had a penchant for fish and the like (I like writing about characters normally, that is what interests me the most you see). All loved fish except for Zuzi (who was named after a dog incidentally but that’s not important), who liked other things (for obvious reasons I didn’t have time to go into it). In the mornings I would sit at the dining room (it was wooden table, made of wood) with my cereal or similar type of thing (I never have the same thing for breakfast as I’m sure you understand) and think about the things I was going to do at work the following day (I worked in an office type affair at the time. A little place… Well that’s not really here nor there). This was a good time for me pleasant and the like. I would relax often with a newspaper and read about things going on in the world and this and that (I like to do that some days, it’s not for everyone I know but you know).”