Story 426: Never Happy With the Weather

 WINTER

(At a table in a café)

Friend 1: (Bundled up in a snowsuit, several wool hats, and mittens over gloves, and shivering while sipping a coffee; to Friend 2) Sorry, but this was a mistake: we should’ve just had coffee at our respective homes and met by video chat or something.

Friend 2: (Has coat, hat, and gloves draped over a chair and sips a hot cocoa relaxedly) You’re the one who wanted to “break hibernation” for something that wasn’t work.

Friend 1: (Ironically burns tongue) I know, and I thought I could handle the short bursts outdoors from apartment to car to here like usual, but outdoors decided to turn the air conditioning up to the max and not break single-digit Fahrenheit.  I look up at the distant sun in the crystal clear sky, and it laughs at me.

Friend 2: Heard we’re supposed to get a blizzard tomorrow.

Friend 1: I heard that as well, and chose to ignore that abomination.

Friend 2: Snow, ice, and high winds – might get two feet accumulation.

Friend 1: You sound suspiciously schadenfreudedly about that.

Friend 2: You make that up just now?

Friend 1: I took the German word for getting enjoyment out of other people’s misery, and English adverbed it.

Friend 2: Well, I’m not thrilled about the storm, I’m just finding the situation amusing because you were recently complaining that last month was too warm and the Earth needed winter.

Friend 1: The Earth does need it, but I don’t!  And I’ll be happy when we hit 90° again.  (Spills some of the coffee while shiveringly sipping it some more)

Friend 2: Uh-huh: give you six months.

 SUMMER

(At a public pool, swimmers are frolicking while Friend 1 and Friend 2 relax on nearby deck chairs)

Friend 1: (Wearing a cropped tank top and short shorts) This was a mistake –

Friend 2: (Wearing a loose cotton T-shirt, baggy shorts, and a wide-brimmed hat) Here we go.

Friend 1: We should’ve just stayed in our respective homes and met by video chat or something.

Friend 2: You said being by the water should cool us off; I thought you were going to suggest the beach with the off-shore breeze, but this is fine, too.

Friend 1: I thought having all this water around would cool us off by osmosis – clearly, I was mistaken!

Friend 2: (Gestures to the pool) Why don’t you just jump in, then?

Friend 1: What, you mean with all the people in there?

Friend 2: You’re ridiculous.

Friend 1: It doesn’t help that outdoors decided to turn the furnace up to the max and break triple-digits Fahrenheit.  I look up at the nearby sun in the hazy sky, and it melts my face off.

Friend 2: Just think, six months ago you would’ve wanted to be as overheated as you are now.

Friend 1: (Blinks at Friend 2) I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Friend 2: I’m sure you don’t.  Going in for a swim now.  (Removes layers for swimsuit underneath and jackknifes off the diving board into the pool)

Friend 1: (Drenched by the outer edges of the resulting splash) Oh, sweet tidal wave – how I’ve longed for ye.

 WINTER

(At a table in a café)

Friend 1: (Wearing two snowsuits, barely able to move; voice is muffled by multiple hats and scarves) This was a mis-

Friend 2: Don’t even start.

 SPRING

(In a public park, Friend 1 and Friend 2 are lounging in beach chairs under a shady tree)

Friend 1: (Breathes in contentedly as a warm breeze wafts through the air) Ahhhh….

Friend 2: Is this all right now, Goldilocks?

Friend 1: Hm?

Friend 2: Temp’s in the high 60s; mild to no wind; we don’t have to wear quilts or ice packs…?

Friend 1: Oh.  Yeah, you’re right: this is perfect.

Friend 2: Finally.

(They sit in silence for a few moments)

Friend 1: (Starts shifting around in the chair) Too perfect.

Friend 2: Theeeeere it is.

Story 293: You Start Growing Old When You Start Growing Cold

(In Friend 1’s apartment, Friend 2 is sitting on the living room couch and reading a book when Friend 1 enters, pulling on a sweatshirt)

Friend 2: What… are you doing?

Friend 1: (Stops in mid-pull) Eh?

Friend 2: (Points accusingly at the sweatshirt) Why are you putting on that?  It’s over 70° outside!

Friend 1: (Finishes adjusting attire) Yeah, well, it’s cooler inside than it is out.

Friend 2: Not really: it’s over 70° in here, too.  You really should turn your thermostat down, by the way – I saw earlier that it’s set for 85°.

Friend 1: I will turn it down when it is absolutely necessary to do so and not a second earlier, Earth-killer.  (Glances at the thermostat) Besides, I doubt it’s even 70° in here – this thing isn’t a smart thermostat, it’s just a stupid thermostat like the rest of the retro analogue tech scattered throughout the place.

Friend 2: Don’t let them hear you say that: you’ll be the first they turn on during the robot uprising.

Friend 1: I’m quite sure I will be.  (Sits in an armchair and pulls on slipper socks over regular socks on feet)

Friend 2: Oh come on – need me to make a bowl of chicken noodle soup for you too, while you’re at it?!

Friend 1: Ooh, that sounds lovely; would you?

Friend 2: Face it, pal: you’re getting old.

Friend 1: I fail to see the train of logic you boarded to reach that conclusion.

Friend 2: For starters, it’s almost July and you’re dressed like “Winter Is Coming”!

Friend 1: Well technically, we are still in Spring.

Friend 2: We haven’t had Spring in years!  We go straight from Winter to the Rainy Season to Summer!  (Walks to the window and opens it wide) Look at the grass out there, it’s already burning!

Friend 1: (Peers out, unconcernedly) Well, there are some very thoughtless dog walkers in this area.  (Wraps a fleece blanket around self and curls up in the chair)

Friend 2: What – what – what are you doing now?!

Friend 1: Getting comfortable.  Ooh, while you’re up, could you bring me my knit cap from the hall closet, please?

Friend 2: No I will not – you’re going to overheat and die!

Friend 1: Don’t be dramatic; I’m not a car.

Friend 2: (Flops back down on the couch) No, you’re just old.

Friend 1: Again with the “o” word.  And where is the evidence for your newfound hypothesis, hm?

Friend 2: It’s not new; I’ve been noticing it for years.  Every single person of advanced years I know is always freezing the hotter outside it gets.  I guess it’s some kind of core temperature body change we’re all doomed to get; our cells struggling to stay alive as everything breaks down or something.

Friend 1: (Chuckles while briskly rubbing hands together) Hate to burst your bubble, but your premise is flawed: I only just turned 35.  (Friend 2 stares at Friend 1) That’s not old!

Friend 2: In this society and time period, no; biologically, it’s the beginning of the end.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Think about it: our bodies stop growing by age 21 the latest; we reach our ultimate peak by early 30s the latest; it can only be downhill after that.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Haven’t you noticed your appetite lessening, your hair graying, your skin drying out, your muscles sagging?

Friend 1: Wha – wel – whe – that last one’s just because I’m a lazy oaf!

Friend 2: Yeah, and wrinkles are starting to show up around your eyes, and your hearing is getting worse, and you’re falling asleep earlier and earlier at night, even in the middle of a movie –

Friend 1: Hey!  I fall asleep because I have had a busy and exhausting day at work!

Friend 2: You work less now than you did in your 20s when you had two jobs and went to school full-time!

Friend 1: I had more motivation back then: it was before my epic failure at life.

Friend 2: Whatever; your memory’s gotten real bad, too.

Friend 1: Has not!  I remember everything about everything with perfect clarity!

Friend 2: OK: what temperature did I say your thermostat was set to earlier?

Friend 1: (Mouth opens and closes several times) Your memory’s bad!

Friend 2: Fine.

Friend 1: (Flings off blanket and walks across the room) And just because I feel a slight chill on a brisk Spring day does not translate into one of the myriad symptoms you’ve obviously been tracking on me to diagnose my supposed early-onset agedom!  (Starts lighting the fireplace)

Friend 2: (Walks over to Friend 1 and snatches away the lighter) You want to be incinerated in your own hot flash go right ahead, but you’re not taking me with you!  (Tosses the lighter onto the couch and picks up the book to leave)

Friend 1: (Snatches the lighter from the couch) Go, leave, revel in the Dog Days of Summer that you claim are going on out there!  I’ll be nice and cozy in here, I thank you.

Friend 2: (Opens the front door) I’ll call you from the beach!  (Leaves)

Friend 1: (Shakes head in disgust, lights fire, and goes back to curling up with the blanket in the chair.  Barely moves when the front door opens again)

Friend 2: (Not meeting Friend 1’s eyes) You got any gloves I could borrow?

Friend 1: (Opens a lamp table drawer and pulls out a pair) I thought you’d never ask.

Story 229: The [Disease] Carrier

            “Aw, man!” the Administrative Assistant whined.

            “What?” his neighboring Admin. asked.

            In a low voice he said, “They want me to work at those Corporate events next week and I thought I had timed my vacation to miss them but I requested off the wrong week!  And now I’m stuck because I can only use the funeral excuse for one day and I need five!  And having to work these things is always so draining; my life is ruined, absolutely ruined!”  He dramatically banged his head on his folded hands resting on the desk, and sighed.

            Looking around her first, the neighboring Admin. leaned in and spoke in a low voice: “Not necessarily.”

            Without looking up: “Hm?”

            “I know someone who can help you, if you’re willing to put up with mild-to-major discomfort and the slight possibility of death.”

            His head popped up: “I’m willing.”

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

In a dirty, seldom-travelled hallway of the building, the Admin. checked the information on the card he had been given and finally located the door labelled “Boiler Room.”  He knocked and waited a full minute before a disheveled employee answered the door.

“It’s open; you could’ve just come in,” Disheveled said.

“Sorry,” the Admin. replied.  “I didn’t know the protocol; you know, I’ve worked here for eight years and never been down here until now, heh-heh-heh.”

“[Grunt]”

“So!  I was referred here by a colleague to meet with ‘The Carrier,’” he overdid the air quotes, “who I was told could ‘assist’ with a certain ‘problem’ that I ‘have’ – ”

“All right, all right, get in.”  Disheveled opened the door wider and led the Admin. to a chair in front of a desk in an expectedly filthy office.  The former rummaged through a drawer, gave the latter a clipboard and pen, said “Fill it out,” and left.

The Admin., all alone with the creepy-crawlies in the shadows, felt that he would soon be murdered; knowing that the improbability of that triumphs over the possibility, he proceeded to answer the health questions on the 10 double-sided pages attached to the clipboard.  When he finished, he had no idea how to convey that to the person who seemed in charge of this joint.  He was about to make a run for it when Disheveled re-entered the room, grabbed the clipboard out of the Admin.’s hands, and exited, slamming the door behind him.

One of those old-fashioned waiting periods commenced for the Admin., in that he had nothing to do but wait since he had accidentally left his phone on his desk, which he realized also would have come in handy if he needed rescuing, but oh well.  He spent the next who-knows-how-long (since he also never wore watches anymore) counting the floor and ceiling tiles several times over and anticipating each time the furnace would roar to life when he heard someone approach the door.  He braced himself to face Disheveled’s Evil Twin, or, perhaps, Disheveled’s Monstrous Parent.

The door opened and a pleasant, well-dressed woman entered, carrying the clipboard.

“Hello!”  She shook the Admin.’s hand and sat in the chair across from him.  “Sorry for making you come all the way down here and wait – not the most sanitary of conditions, if you know what I mean, but can’t be helped.”  She flipped through the pages he had completed.

He stared at her.  “You’re The Carrier.”

She looked up at him and smiled.  “Oh, that – my title’s actually Supervisor, but my clients tacked that other one on me over the years.  Whatcha gonna do?”  She chuckled, then read from one of the pages: “So, according to this, you’re pretty healthy.”

“Unfortunately, yes.  No one’s going to believe I’m sick for five days without any warning unless it’s something really good.  I was thinking the flu – everyone’s got that this year, right?”

She shook her head.  “No, that’s too much of a wildcard – people die from it, you know, and some of them were pretty healthy themselves.”

“I’ve had it before; I can handle it.”

“Mm-hm, and which strain was it?”

“…There’s more than one?”

She shook her head again.  “Nope, won’t do it; it’ll have to be something else.”

“But I deliberately didn’t get the flu shot this year so I could get some sick days!”

“And that was a stupid reason not to get the shot, but it’s not too late; you should get vaccinated ASAP.  Let’s see,” she flipped through a few pages while he slumped in his seat, “you wrote here that you had chicken pox when you were a kid: I can reactivate that to give you a nice case of the shingles that’ll lay you up for at least a week, if you want.”

“Wait a minute, I thought I can’t get the shingles because I had the chicken pox!”

“Ha!  The virus never left – you might get shingles, you might not, there’s no way to tell.  You’re just a ticking time bomb waiting for the right circumstances to break out in agony.”

He turned green.  “Maybe not that one, then.”

“Leave be as you say.”  She turned to another page.  “What about pertussis?”
            “Percussion?”
            “Whopping cough.  This says you missed the vaccination when you were a baby.”

“Hmm…”  He thought on this, then shook his head.  “Nah, I don’t want to spend the whole time coughing my lungs out, that’ll be exhausting.  Isn’t there one you have that’ll just let me, I dunno, sleep the whole time?  Yeah, how about sleeping sickness?”

“You don’t want that one.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve got it.”  She set the clipboard definitively onto the desk.  “Gastroenteritis with a side-helping of appendicitis.  You’ll be puking for a few days, but if I time it right you’ll be out for at least a week with a nice hospital admission for corroboration.”

“But I don’t want a hospital admission!”  He stood to emphasize his point.  “I just want to call out sick so I don’t have to cover a work event!  Now you’re going to have them cut me open and take my appendix?!  What if I need it?!”

“You’re the one who came here for my help.”  She remained in the chair and folded her arms.

“Yeah, but not to have my organs stolen!  Plus it'll leave a scar!  And I don’t want to be puking!”

“Then the best I can offer is common cold that peaks for four days max.”

He heaved a mighty breath, sat back down in the chair, and grumbled: “I guess if that’s the best you can do….”

She held out new forms and the pen: “Sign these so you can’t sue me later.”  He did so; she then held out another piece of paper and a credit card scanner.  “Now swipe your card here.”

“It’s that much?!”

“This is a very specialized service I offer; it takes a lot of effort to properly titrate all the strains of disease I carry.”

“All right, mumble-mumble.”  He slowly opened his wallet and swiped his card.

In the meantime, she put on a pair of gloves, rolled up his left sleeve, swabbed his inner elbow with a cotton pad, selected a syringe from the multiple rows that lined the inside of her coat, and injected him with it.  “There.  You should be good and sick by 7:30 tonight at the latest.”

“Thanks.”  He rolled down his sleeve and stood to leave as she cleaned up her mini-lab.  “You know, with all that stuff going on in your blood, you probably have the cure for cancer floating around in there and don’t even know it.”

“I doubt it – with all that stuff going on in my blood, I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long.  Might as well make some money off of it.”