Letter/Transcript

Letter (Transcript)
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[Screen shows Salad Fingers sitting on his bed "reading" a piece of newspaper as if it's a letter from the war.]

Salad Fingers: Dear beloved, we are having the most wonderful time. H-the trenches are decorated with flowers a-and pleasantries.

[As he reads, the root of a tree starts traveling through his house and into his bedroom.]

Salad Fingers: I-I hope you get well soon. With love, from the great war. Awwwee.

[Salad Fingers notices the tree root poke out from his bedroom door. He twitches and makes excited noises, as he reaches for the root. He grabs it, and bites the end of it. It retreats from Salad Fingers, as he hears a voice.]

Voice: Ow! Daddy, that really hurt! (Sobs)

[Salad Fingers look out of his window in curiosity, as he watches the root. The root was from the tree sitting out near Salad Fingers house.]

Voice: Help me, Daddy! Daddy, I'm bothered! (Sobs)

[Screen cuts to Salad Fingers walking up to the tree.]

Salad Fingers: Y-you-you'd better have a good reason for all this rumpus, H-Mr. Branches.

[A teary face appears on the tree.]

Mr. Branches: Daddy! Lo-look what happened to my end bits, daddy!

['Mr. Branches' waves the bitten root, as Salad Fingers strokes it gently.]

Salad Fingers: Ooh! Someone’s got a poorly! H-we'll have to get some bubble trumps and vinegar on there before it falls off.

Mr. Branches: I-I'm cold out here, Daddy! I'm cold!

Salad Fingers: Well you'd better get a move on, and start growing out of those branches if you want to come inside.

Mr. Branches: (Sobs) That's not fair, Daddy!

[As Salad Fingers walks away, Mr. Branches grabs onto Salad Fingers stomach, squeezing it. Salad Fingers gasps for air.]

[The screen cuts to reality, as that sequence turned out to be a dream/memory. Salad Fingers is sitting on his bed, very pale and ill. His stomach resembles marks that the roots of Mr. Branches may of left behind after squeezing him. He clutches onto his growling stomach, as he groans in pain. He speaks very weakly and gaspy.]

Salad Fingers: I feel my day of reckoning may be approaching. I-I suppose I'd better alert the correspondence. (Taps an SOS into the furnace next to his bed) Bring... help... briskly. M-mother always said, the scarlet fever would be my final departure.

[Salad Fingers eyes start to droop, as he leans back and closes his eyes. Suddenly, a black mass shoots out from his stomach and onto the floor, causing him to fall back on the bed pass out.]

[Screen fades to him waking up presumably minutes or hours later, groaning. He lifts himself up, and awes at the black lump on the floor.]

Salad Fingers: I've yearned for this day. (Picks the black lump up) I-I-I never thought she would arrive. bottles, nappies, smiles and wee, to my heart, you found the key. Baby... Yvonne is born today. The angels say she's here to stay. (Awes, as he looks closer at it) You've got your mother's eyes. And she was a fair maiden, too. Make no mistake. (Kisses Yvonne, the black sludge smearing on his lips)

[Screen cuts to a hole in the ground with Yvonne inside it. She is wrapped up in newspaper, and is sat up against a stick holding her up. Salad Fingers is seen in a wooden wheelchair, as he goes up to a table with toilet paper on it. He pulls the skin of his finger down to reveal some sort of hard brown bone under the flesh, and dips it into a can full of ink and writes onto the toilet paper like a letter. It doesn't resemble words, just scribbles, but he "reads" out loud what he is writing.]

Salad Fingers: I shan't be able to attend the war, today. A-as I am still feeling a little under the weather. (Hears a noise of something falling behind him) (Annoyed) Heavens to Betsy, what now?

[Salad Fingers goes up to the hole with Yvonne in it. She has fallen over.]

Salad Fingers: You're supposed to be doing your exercise, Yvonne. A lethargic child is a servant to the beast.

[Salad Fingers starts singing the Nursery Rhyme, 'Heads, shoulders, knees and toes' while acting out the dance to Yvonne. He's out of his wheelchair, and kneeling on the ground.]

Salad Fingers: ♪ Heads, shoulders, knees and toes, knees and toes. Heads, shoulders- ♪ (Sighs, getting angry) I'm going be jolly cross with you in a minute.

[Salad Fingers lifts up his hand to reveal Marjory Stewart-Baxter on his finger.]

Salad Fingers: I think we've been given a duff one, Marjory. (She nods in agreement)

[Screen cuts to Salad Fingers laying on the floor near his furnace. He's sick and pale again, and he's slowly pumping oxygen into his heart using a tube and pump. Yvonne is in a cardboard box next to him.]

Salad Fingers: My condition is worsening, Yvonne. I'm afraid caring for you might be out of my current grasp.

[Salad Fingers gives a voice to Yvonne, as he moves her with a stick.]

Salad Fingers: (As Yvonne) Aww, that's a shame. You were doing a fair rate job.

Salad Fingers: I'll make some appointments. (Taps an SOS into the furnace again) Home... needed... for... meddlesome child.

[Screen cuts to Salad Fingers, looking healthier, in his wheelchair traveling somewhere with Yvonne in a bucket.]

Salad Fingers: Good old Aunty Bainbridge has agreed to take care of you whist daddy is enfeebled. She'll-she'll make a fanciful young gentlewoman of you. A-and she'll have you in farming. (Stops the wheelchair) Now, did you remember to pack your trestle table? (Pauses) Well it's too late to go back now. (Continues)

[Salad Fingers makes it to 'Aunty Bainbridge's' house. It's the house belonging to the Yellow Child from episode one. The Yellow Child walks out from behind its house, and stares at Salad Fingers.]

Salad Fingers: Aunty Brainbridge! Now there's a rosy rascal. H-give us a hug you old dame.

[The Yellow Child just backs away a little bit, and makes a ghastly screeching noise.]

Salad Fingers: H-I remember you'd sing me a shillings worth, and then smack my bottom raw for being a fussy fidget-pot. H-all in faded days.

[The Yellow Child continues staring.]

Salad Fingers: Well, um. I'm just... here to erm... oh. To...

[Salad Fingers tries to remember, as he stares into his bucket.]

Salad Fingers: H-Clean your windows! That's right! I think... Yes! I think I must be.

[Salad Fingers gets close to the window of the house, and whistles as he touches it, dirt wiping off with his finger.]

Salad Fingers: Them's a bit mucky, missus. H-should be one for't Sat'day lads really. Don't qualm, mind. I'll chuck you this'n for nowt.

[Salad Fingers reaches inside the bucket, and retrieves Yvonne, as he stares at her. He starts wiping her onto the window. The yellow child just watches, as usual.]

[The screen cuts to the window, completely covered in black mass. The Yellow Child stares at it, then walks into the house. Salad Fingers is seen a bit further away from the house, taking a break and eating a sandwich.]

[END]