2026-06-22, 01:45 PM - Word count:
Ring ring
Ring ring
Click
Unknown: Hello?
Nick Kasak is alone talking on his phone in a huge living room of a sparsely decorated yet luxurious apartment, the floor to ceiling windows show a stunning vista of Cape Town’s skyline, with Table Mountain looming in the distance. The African Sunset looking glorious as ever as golden hour shines over South Africa.
Nick Kasak: Hey Dad! How’s it going?
Nick is dressed in Kaapstad training shorts and Universal Studios, Hollywood t shirt, perched upon an uncomfortable looking designer white leather sofa.
Dad: Oh… allo son. All fine here.
Kasak's father has a thick South London accent and a gruff demeanour.
NK: …
Dad: …
NK: Did you see my Kaapstad Debut?
Dad (at same time): Did you wanna speak to your mum?
NK: Sorry, you go first
Dad: Nah, you go ahead.
NK: errr… yeah so did you catch my first game? I know you couldn’t make it here but you saw it on TV right?
Dad: Oh yes, of course. After we watched London Paris I think we caught the highlights.
NK: … oh… So what did you think?
Dad: Terrible really, to lose on your opening match…
NK: Yes, it wasn’t the result we wanted-
Dad: (interrupting) didn’t really take our chances.
NK: No, well I think-
Dad: And that rookie Erickson looked naff as well! He needs to get better soon!
NK: What? There’s no… oh you meant London.
Dad: Course! Annoyed we didn’t season tickets after we got promoted.
NK: Er, yeah… their matches will be on the same time as mine though.
Dad: What’s that?
NK: Kaapstad.
Dad: Yes.
NK: Kaapstad!
Dad: Yes, I heard you the first time Nicholas. Can’t believe you went to them.
NK: Sorry?
Dad: Well of all the teams, you chose that weird Dutch lot.
NK: Dutch? They’re… we’re in Cape Town.
Dad: But that’s in Africa?
NK: Yeah.
Dad: So why aren’t they called Cape Town? Bloody ridiculous if you ask me.
NK: Well it’s not really up to-
Dad: Absolute woke nonsense if you ask me. And another thing. You’ll never guess they’re putting up cameras to catch illegal parking, but they don’t care about other crimes, don’t?
NK: I don’t know what has to do with-
Dad: (talking over him) Agnes at 43 was burgled the other day and the police didn’t even bother to come round.
NK: Oh really? That sounds bad-
Dad: Turns out she has just had a funny turn and done it to her own place you know, couldn’t find the turkey baster or something, but still, the police didn’t do anything.
NK: … so how do you know she did it?
Dad: One of her nurses told me when I bumped into her one morning. Lovely West Indian lady she was.
NK: West Indian? Can you even say that any more?
Dad: Oh, don’t you start, Nick. Ever since you’ve gone away to play you’ve got softer and softer.
NK: (getting angrier) What do you mean?!
Dad: I bet you’re just letting them push you around. I heard you’re playing in defence! My boy the star striker, a defender?
NK: A defender?? Did you even watch the game Dad? I’m playing in midfield, yeah, but I’m making runs and taking corners and-
Dad: Ooh, corner taker? P-ss taker more like? Come on, you never gonna score from those are you.
NK: (visibly agitated) B-but, it’s what the teams needs. It’s how we win, it’s how I will win. You know what, I don’t have the time for this. I was calling to wish you a Happy Father’s Day but clearly it’s a bad time.
Dad: …
NK: …
Dad: Well.
NK: Yeah.
Dad: Thanks for your call. Guess we’ll see you at Christmas.
*click*
NK: Bye Dad.
Nick holds the phone by his side, staring at it for a moment, goes to throw it against the wall when it rings; with Die Antwoord’s “I Fink U Freaky” as the ringtone. He answers.
NK: Dad?
Theresa: Hello Mr Kasak, this Theresa calling from FC Kaapstad.
NK: Hey, Theresa, sorry… you don’t have to do that every time, and you can call me Nick, you know? Mr Kasak doesn’t sound like me.
Theresa: Of course Mr Kasak. I’m just calling in regards to your complimentary match tickets? We haven't received any names for the next few games from you.
NK: Er, yeah, I guess I hadn’t got round to it.
Theresa: They’re great seats in our corporate hospitality section, 10 tickets per game, Mr Kasak.
NK: Nick
Theresa: Yes, Mr Kasak. If you just let me know names I can handle the rest. Perhaps your parents, for example?
NK: …
Nick bites his lip in thought, looking into the middle distance.
Theresa: Mr Kasak? Are you still there? Mr Kasak?
Ring ring
Click
Unknown: Hello?
Nick Kasak is alone talking on his phone in a huge living room of a sparsely decorated yet luxurious apartment, the floor to ceiling windows show a stunning vista of Cape Town’s skyline, with Table Mountain looming in the distance. The African Sunset looking glorious as ever as golden hour shines over South Africa.
Nick Kasak: Hey Dad! How’s it going?
Nick is dressed in Kaapstad training shorts and Universal Studios, Hollywood t shirt, perched upon an uncomfortable looking designer white leather sofa.
Dad: Oh… allo son. All fine here.
Kasak's father has a thick South London accent and a gruff demeanour.
NK: …
Dad: …
NK: Did you see my Kaapstad Debut?
Dad (at same time): Did you wanna speak to your mum?
NK: Sorry, you go first
Dad: Nah, you go ahead.
NK: errr… yeah so did you catch my first game? I know you couldn’t make it here but you saw it on TV right?
Dad: Oh yes, of course. After we watched London Paris I think we caught the highlights.
NK: … oh… So what did you think?
Dad: Terrible really, to lose on your opening match…
NK: Yes, it wasn’t the result we wanted-
Dad: (interrupting) didn’t really take our chances.
NK: No, well I think-
Dad: And that rookie Erickson looked naff as well! He needs to get better soon!
NK: What? There’s no… oh you meant London.
Dad: Course! Annoyed we didn’t season tickets after we got promoted.
NK: Er, yeah… their matches will be on the same time as mine though.
Dad: What’s that?
NK: Kaapstad.
Dad: Yes.
NK: Kaapstad!
Dad: Yes, I heard you the first time Nicholas. Can’t believe you went to them.
NK: Sorry?
Dad: Well of all the teams, you chose that weird Dutch lot.
NK: Dutch? They’re… we’re in Cape Town.
Dad: But that’s in Africa?
NK: Yeah.
Dad: So why aren’t they called Cape Town? Bloody ridiculous if you ask me.
NK: Well it’s not really up to-
Dad: Absolute woke nonsense if you ask me. And another thing. You’ll never guess they’re putting up cameras to catch illegal parking, but they don’t care about other crimes, don’t?
NK: I don’t know what has to do with-
Dad: (talking over him) Agnes at 43 was burgled the other day and the police didn’t even bother to come round.
NK: Oh really? That sounds bad-
Dad: Turns out she has just had a funny turn and done it to her own place you know, couldn’t find the turkey baster or something, but still, the police didn’t do anything.
NK: … so how do you know she did it?
Dad: One of her nurses told me when I bumped into her one morning. Lovely West Indian lady she was.
NK: West Indian? Can you even say that any more?
Dad: Oh, don’t you start, Nick. Ever since you’ve gone away to play you’ve got softer and softer.
NK: (getting angrier) What do you mean?!
Dad: I bet you’re just letting them push you around. I heard you’re playing in defence! My boy the star striker, a defender?
NK: A defender?? Did you even watch the game Dad? I’m playing in midfield, yeah, but I’m making runs and taking corners and-
Dad: Ooh, corner taker? P-ss taker more like? Come on, you never gonna score from those are you.
NK: (visibly agitated) B-but, it’s what the teams needs. It’s how we win, it’s how I will win. You know what, I don’t have the time for this. I was calling to wish you a Happy Father’s Day but clearly it’s a bad time.
Dad: …
NK: …
Dad: Well.
NK: Yeah.
Dad: Thanks for your call. Guess we’ll see you at Christmas.
*click*
NK: Bye Dad.
Nick holds the phone by his side, staring at it for a moment, goes to throw it against the wall when it rings; with Die Antwoord’s “I Fink U Freaky” as the ringtone. He answers.
NK: Dad?
Theresa: Hello Mr Kasak, this Theresa calling from FC Kaapstad.
NK: Hey, Theresa, sorry… you don’t have to do that every time, and you can call me Nick, you know? Mr Kasak doesn’t sound like me.
Theresa: Of course Mr Kasak. I’m just calling in regards to your complimentary match tickets? We haven't received any names for the next few games from you.
NK: Er, yeah, I guess I hadn’t got round to it.
Theresa: They’re great seats in our corporate hospitality section, 10 tickets per game, Mr Kasak.
NK: Nick
Theresa: Yes, Mr Kasak. If you just let me know names I can handle the rest. Perhaps your parents, for example?
NK: …
Nick bites his lip in thought, looking into the middle distance.
Theresa: Mr Kasak? Are you still there? Mr Kasak?
![[Image: BPZ3GXn.png]](https://iili.io/BPZ3GXn.png)
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