Transcript for the Piece Audio version of Dear Harold

SIXTY SECOND RADIO HOUR -- LETTER TO HAROLD

SOUND: HANDWRITING ON PAPER, OR TYPING AND BACKSPACING.

JOANNE
"Dear Harold." No, too trite. "My
dearest Harold." Too formal. "Dear
Big Black Stain on the Soul of
Humanity." Perfect. "I guess you're
wondering why you haven't seen me in
the last week.

It's over Harold. You're an oaf and
a...(thinking) you're an oaf and
a...toad! ha! You're an oaf and a
toad and I never want to see you
again. Nor do I want to smell your
acrid cologne of motor oil and dead
fish, feel your cold salamander
touch, hear your brittle aluminum-
foil voice, taste you in any manner,
or have any experience of you in any
possible psychic sense. You are the
most despicable man ever to walk the
face of the earth, with the possible
exception of certain well-known
historical figures. We're through.
(sigh)

SOUND: TAPPING ON KEYBOARD OR PAPER

JOANNE

I don't know if you know this,
Harold, but I saw you. I was there.
Yes, I know I said that my car was in
the shop, but that was a ruse.
Really, you're so gullible sometimes.
There's no such thing as a transverse
quasi-truculator, and if there was
there's no garage in this town that
would fix it.

I told you my car was stuck so you'd
think I wouldn't make it to the
banquet. Because I wanted to catch
you when you thought you were free.
I caught you. I saw you. With her.
Kissing her. I would have killed you
right then and there, you little
snake, but there would have been
witnesses to get rid of too and
strangling 40 people with my broken
purse strap seemed logistically
infeasible.

I don't get it, Harold. You'd been
so reliable, so dependable. It was
sickening in a way, how much I could
count on you. I couldn't turn around
without seeing your pathetic little
face smiling and asking if I needed
anything, or telling me you loved me.

JOANNE
Look, I know what you're going to
say, and I don't want to hear it.
You'll say she's the touchy-feely
type, and you just had to keep up
good relations at work. You'll say
there was nothing romantic about the
kiss.

But I know you. I know how you work.
I've seen you up close for a long
time. Sure, one day it's just an
innocent kiss, to keep things
friendly. Then next week, she'll
have a sore throat and you'll offer
to bring her some herbal tea. You'll
open the door for her, and hold the
elevator open as she walks in,
because you're that kind of guy. Oh,
it sickens me just to think about it.

The first dinner will be just a late
meeting that spilled over into a
meal, but you'll be charming. You'll
smile, and for a moment she won't be
able to think. And you'll both have
wine and when you drop her back at
the office she'll want to kiss you
but you won't do it 'cause you know
it's just the wine talking. You
obsequious bastard.

Then, maybe the next day, maybe after
a week, you'll bring her a book.
Something you thought of when she
mentioned that she liked such and
such, and she'll read your causual
off-hand gift and it'll change her
life and she'll never look at
herself, or you, the same again.
You're insidious and I hate you.

And you'll know just what flowers to
bring, and you'll be there when she's
sick or pretending to be and her
parents will love you and invite you
for canasta games and you'll never do
the wrong thing and..and..you'll make
her smile at the strangest
times..and..you'll..you'll..Oh,
Harold I love you so much! Let's
forget the whole thing. We'll spend
the weekend together, at that villa
in the mountains, and I'll kiss you
until you can't stand it anymore.

JOANNE
Call me as soon as you get this, ok?