Story 643: Nothing Bothers Me When I’m on Vacation

             (In an office)

Manager: (Pausing while passing by with a glass of water) What’re you smiling so inanely about?

Vacationer: (Smiling inanely at the computer while slowly typing one key every few seconds) Oh, just thinking that 24 hours from now, I’ll be on the beach, totally relaxed, not a care in the world, that sort of thing.

Manager: Yeah, that’s great – you still have the quarterly budget report to submit before the end of the day since you’ll be gone when it’s due.

Vacationer: (Smiling and typing uninterrupted) No… worries… all… will… be… well….

Manager: Hm.  Wish I could feel that way when I go on vacation; people always act like I’m on-call 24/7 no matter what. 

 

(On a backed-up parkway the next day, Vacationer’s car inches slowly among the blaring horns, yelling drivers, and blazing heat from the Sun above and the pavement below)

Voice on the Radio: – and would you believe it, yet another accident, this time at Exit 98 and involving 10 cars and a tractor trailer!  Shockingly, only minor injuries have been reported, but folks, this is gonna add at least another hour to the record-breaking ONE-HUNDRED-mile backup on the parkway – my suggestion, take the highways; at this point, the traffic lights have gotta be faster than this sea of molasses –

Vacationer: (Smiling gently while staring through the surrounding chaos, then full-body sighs) Ahhhhhhh… vacation…. (Switches from the radio station to pre-recorded sounds of ocean waves and seagulls) 

 

(In a hotel room later that day, Vacationer flops backward onto a king-sized bed, closes eyes, and smiles even wider)

Vacationer: Sooo… relaxed….

(After a few moments, a loud SLAM! is heard overhead, followed by slightly muffled voices)

Upstairs Voice 1: I told you to wash off your feet before tromping sand all over the place!  Look at this mess!

Upstairs Voice 2: I forgot!

Upstairs Voice 1: Well, DO IT NOW!  This was a nice clean room when we got here, and in the space of five minutes it’s become an absolute pigsty!  And that’s insulting the pigs!

Upstairs Voice 3: WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!  (Cries continue as a backing track to the rest of the conversation)

Upstairs Voice 1: Look what you did!  No one’ll get any sleep tonight!

Upstairs Voice 2: Can I have candy now?

Upstairs Voice 1: You’re lucky if I let you have candy EVER AGAIN!

Upstairs Voice 4: I’m goin’ to the mini-golf course – anyone wanna come?

Upstairs Voice 2: (With banging sounds while jumping up and down) Oooh!  Oooh!  Me!  Me!

Upstairs Voice 1: No mini-golf until you wash off this filth!

Upstairs Voice 2: It’s called The Ocean!  It’s Nature, so it’s natural!

Upstairs Voice 1: And it’s polluted with your mess, now WASH!  IT!  OFF!!!

Upstairs Voice 3: (Louder) WAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Vacationer: (Slowly opens eyes as Upstairs Voices continue without breaks, smile never fading) Sooooooooooo… relaxed…. 

 

(On the beach later that afternoon, Vacationer sits on a recliner near the shoreline and reads a book; an umbrella planted in the sand next to the chair starts rocking back and forth faster and faster as winds pick up speed)

Lifeguard: (Whistles loudly at the nearby swimmers and waves arms gesturing that they come ashore) Everyone out of the water!  Massive thunderstorm off the port bow!  (Points to giant dark clouds filled with rain and lightning that are speeding toward the beach)

(Everyone rushes out of the water, screaming and scooping up their supplies before running inland)

Vacationer: (Looks around at the mass exodus and then at the approaching thunderstorm, then reclines the chair back farther as the rain begins, sighing contentedly) Wonderful: have the place all to myself now.

Laughing Seagull: (Glances at the crowds and at Vacationer before taking flight as far away from the ocean as possible) HA – HA – HA – HAA – HAA – HAA!  [Humans really are the dopiest species on this planet] 

 

(In a restaurant that evening, Vacationer eats at a small table located in the middle of the main floor, surrounded by screaming kids, boisterous adults, frantic servers, and karaoke night)

Vacationer: (Takes a bite out of the entrée and closes eyes in satisfaction as “Happy Birthday” at a nearby table competes with a bachelorette party on stage) Mmm… perfection….  (Gently sips a mocktail as a place setting crashes to the floor nearby) 

 

(On the hotel property during the next sunny day, Vacationer sits on a lounge chair in front of the ground floor room, facing the pool and the common lawn for all the other rooms,  and reading a different book.  A heated cornhole competition is being held directly in front of Vacationer’s chair, the lifeguardless pool is over-capacity with adults and children playing shoulder wars, tag, and catch at the same time, someone strung up a volleyball net on something and began a game where the ball keeps hitting the rooms’ walls and glass sliding doors, and several stereo systems playing different genres of music are blasting from around the property and within the pool)

Vacationer: (Closes eyes and smiles dreamily, setting the book on stomach and folding arms behind head) Hmmm… think I’ll take a nap…. (Chuckles as a volleyball bounces off an elbow)

 

(At the hotel check-in/check-out counter several days later)

Clerk: That settles up your bill, then.  Did you enjoy your stay with us?

Vacationer: (Smile has faded a bit) Extremely.  I just have one complaint, though.

Clerk: The other guests?  They were especially awful this week, I know – most of them checked out yesterday, and I can finally hear again without a ringing in my ears.

Vacationer: No, it’s just – this was a vacation.

Clerk: Yes?

Vacationer: And now, it’s over.

Clerk: …Yes?

Vacationer: Well that’s the problem, now isn’t it.

Clerk: Ah, yes: such is life, I suppose.

Vacationer: I suppose.  Farewell, Temporary Paradise, then.  (Carries luggage out of the office, then stops to stare at the shore town’s main avenue and the beach with the Sun shining down on the waves, then breathes in the relaxed air of contentment one last time) If only I could bottle this feeling and take it once daily – I think that would solve pretty much everything.

Story 642: Midsummer or Mid-Summer?

            (Friend 1 and Friend 2 sit in beach chairs facing a lake in a park and read beach-read books)

Friend 1: (Lowers the book to watch a duck land in the water and start taking a bath; to Friend 2) When is Midsummer anyway?

Friend 2: (Without looking up from reading) Northern Hemisphere or Southern?

Friend 1: Ha-ha.  (After a few moments of silence) Northern.

Friend 2: (Sets aside the book and takes out a cell phone) Well, let’s consult the Oracle, shall we?  If I can get a signal out here.  (Searches online for a minute) OK, got it: summer solstice.

Friend 1: What?!  That can’t be right.

Friend 2: (Holds out the phone to Friend 1) Oracle says so right here.

Friend 1: (Takes the phone, skims the online encyclopedia article, and hands the phone back to Friend 2) That makes no sense – why would people celebrate Midsummer at the beginning of summer?!

Friend 2: (Skims through the rest of the article) Says here the festival’s in the middle of the growing season.

Friend 1: Exactly: so why isn’t it called Midgrowing, then?

Friend 2: (Types a bit) I guess “Midsommar” has a nicer ring to it than “Mellanväxt”.

Friend 1: That’s not a real reason.

Friend 2: (Returns to the original article) Says here that it also celebrates the longest day of the year at the beginning of summer.

Friend 1: Yes, again, the beginning of summer, so why isn’t it – hang on – (Takes out a cell phone and types a bit) “Bӧrjan Av Sommaren”?

Friend 2: I dunno; go ask Scandinavian countries centuries ago when it all started.

Friend 1: (Nods and begins typing)

Friend 2: (Grabs Friend 1’s phone) I was being facetious – that wasn’t an invitation for you to cause an international incident.

Friend 1: Oh fine.  (Grabs the phone back and pockets it) So, going back to my original question: when is the midpoint of summer?

Friend 2: The exact middle of the season itself?

Friend 1: Exactly.

Friend 2: August 7.

Friend 1: (Blinks in shock) Wow – how did you know that precise date off the top of your head?

Friend 2: I read about it during summer vacation when I was 13, and I remembered it ever since.

Friend 1: Rought summer?

Friend 2: You have no idea.

Friend 1: Yeesh.  Well, good to know, thanks.

Friend 2: Why do you want to know, anyway?

Friend 1: (Stares out at the lake as more ducks arrive to bathe) Oh, just curious how much more of this glorious, magical season I have to enjoy, that’s all.

Friend 2: We’re in the middle of July.

Friend 1: (Wistfully) I know.

Friend 2: August 7 is weeks away, and even then you’d still have another month before the start of school that you no longer go to but still use as a benchmark for your year.

Friend 1: (Sighingly) I know.

Friend 2: Then why aren’t you enjoying this – (Waves an arm up at the blazing Sun and the cloudless sky and the chirping birds and the gentle breeze and the swaying trees and the green grass all around them) now?

Friend 1: I would, it’s just… fall will be here soon enough –

Friend 2: Oh, jeez.

Friend 1: And it’s supposed to thunderstorm the rest of the week, and possibly even flood because of all the drought we’ve had lately.

Friend 2: Well… we do… need the rain….

Friend 1: Yes, but must we need it right now?

Friend 2: …Yes….

Friend 1: Doesn’t it know I’m on staycation this week?

Friend 2: I… don’t think “it” cares….

Friend 1: Well then.  The entire summer, gone in a downpour flash.

Friend 2: Not the entire summer.  And not today.

Friend 1: (Grudgingly) No, not today.

Friend 2: (Staring at the ducks with Friend 1 for a few moments) Even though it’s not Midsommar or Mid-Summer, you wanna celebrate regular summer today and go to the promenade by the bay and have some ice cream?

Friend 1: I think that’s the only appropriate response to this situation, yes.

Story 641: When You Suddenly Realize You’re in a Dream

(In a waterpark supermarket)

Dreamer: (Addressing a crowd of teddy bears as unseen chaos reigns in the flooded aisles around them) All right, soldier:, the campaign is fierce and the enemy is relentless, but with cunning, strategy, and plain old-fashioned lucky breaks, we will prevail.  (Points to a teddy bear in the front) You, Lieutenant!

Lieutenant: (Is now a tree) Yes, Cap’n?

Dreamer: …I forgot what I was going to say.

(Courier strolls across a stage carrying a package, clipboard, and pen)

Courier: Someone here order ice cream?

Dreamer: (Waves wildly) Ooh, ooh, me, me!  (Runs over to Courier and draws an “X” on the clipboard that Courier holds out; the latter then hands over the box)

Courier: Here ya go.  (Vanishes in a puff of smoke)

Dreamer: (Tears open the box) Yessss!  (Sees a turtle inside) Huh?

Turtle: `Sup.

Actor: (Standing slightly upstage of Dreamer and wearing a Renaissance-era costume) Psst!

Dreamer: (Turns to face Actor with empty hands) What, what do you want, what, what?!

Actor: (Hissing) That’s your cue!

Dreamer: It is?  (Turns out to face the audience of vampires seated in an auditorium) Right.  (Clears throat) “To be, or not to be, that is the question.”  (Vampires stare back blankly) That’s all I got.

Vampires: (Rise as one with a standing ovation) Blood!  Blood!

Dreamer: Is that a “Yay” or a “Boo”?  (Turns to Actor and sees the Little Dipper up close) Ooh, can I touch it?  (Reaches out to touch Polaris; hand is slapped by a ruler) Ow!  That didn’t actually hurt but I felt the need to say it anyway.

Teacher: (Standing at the front of a small classroom) Sit down – it’s time for the test that you didn’t study for!

Dreamer: Oh yeah, that!  (Looks around the room) What a minute – did I even go to class at all this semester?

Teacher: No!  And this is the final!

Dreamer: Oops.  Knew I was forgetting something lately.  (Sits at a desk, surrounded by first graders)

Teacher: (Points the ruler at the chalkboard) Now, Class!  Solve this quadratic equation in 60 seconds or you all fail!

Dreamer: (As first graders scribble frantically on their coloring books) Quadratic… is this Algebra?

Teacher: (Has turned into The Void) No talking!

Dreamer: (Tapping a crayon against the desk) Hm… I don’t think I like this….

(Turns around and is in a backyard)

Relative 1: (Holding a large platter of roses and a pair of tongs while wearing a “Grill Master” apron) What’ll it be?  Baseball or corn hole?

Dreamer: Umm… corn hole?

Relative 1: Here ya go.  (Uses the tongs to toss a pouch at Dreamer)

Dreamer: (Lets the pouch fall to the ground) Am I supposed to eat that or something?

Relative 2: (Runs up from behind) Hey, wanna play?

Dreamer: (Turns) Sure, what, corn hole?

Relative 2: Nah, silly – gladiator games!

Dreamer: What?!  (Turns again and is in the middle of the Roman Colosseum with self-piloting chariots aflame whizzing by, spaceships laser fighting each other, and cheerleaders backflipping their way around the track) OK, HOLD IT!  (Everything freezes) This – is – a dream….

Actor: (Eating ice cream in a nearby stadium seat) Whaddya mean?

Dreamer: I’m… dreaming.  This is a dream.  (Looks around at the frozen tableau) And it stinks.  I wanna speak to the manager!

Actor: (Swallows the cone) Newsflash: you are the manager.

Dreamer: …Oh yeah, right.  OK.  (Addresses the tableau) Change.

Tableau: To what?

Dreamer: I dunno, outer space or something.  (Is now in outer space) Cool.  Ooh-ooh, I think this means I can fly now!  (Starts flying above the treetops) Hey, I didn’t say you could change back to boring old Earth!

Albatross: (Flying parallel to Dreamer) Just because you’re in charge doesn’t mean you’re in charge, you know.

Dreamer: That makes no sense!  (Shouts to the sky) Change back to space!  (Is underwater near a coral reef and holds breath)

Submarine: (Gliding nearby) You can breathe here.

Dreamer: (Relaxes blown-up cheeks) I know.

Submarine: No you didn’t.

Dreamer: Whatever – why isn’t this staying where I want it?

Submarine: (Doing a backstroke) Where, outer space?

Dreamer: Yes!  (Starts knitting a blanket)

Submarine: I don’t know – guess you don’t know much about it?

Dreamer: (Holds up a passing manta ray) And I know about the ocean?!

Submarine: More than outer space, I guess.

Dreamer: (Releases the manta ray, who offers a parting slap in the face) Oof – fine.  I wanna fly again anyway.  (Starts taking low-gravity leaps through the countryside) Guess this’ll have to do – whee!

Childhood Friend Not Seen in 25 Years: (Cups hands around mouth to yell at Dreamer from the ground) Having fun up there?

Dreamer: (Yells up and down with leaps) Yeah, but – if I – know it’s – a dream – why can’t – I really – control it?

Childhood Friend Not Seen in 25 Years: You’re interfering with our work!  Just stay out of the way and let us repair the daily damage you do to all of us and stop trying to control everything for two seconds!

Dreamer: (Mid-leap) But – (Wakes up in bed) Oh.

(In Therapist’s office)

Dreamer: (Lying on a couch and talking to the ceiling) I dunno, does this all mean that I am overly controlling?  Or is it the opposite and I feel out of control of my life?  Or that I’m surrounded by chaos in an unfeeling world and this is the only way I can cope with my meaningless existence?  (Turns around to hold onto the edge of the couch and face Therapist) I need answers – what does having all those dreams mean?!

Therapist: (Flexing one hand and rotating wrist to work out cramps while the other hand holds pages full of notes) It means I’m shocked you don’t wake up completely exhausted every morning.

Story 640: Last Generation/Next Generation: 1776/1808

 (Originally written as a one-act play in 2021) 

            1776 

(In a farmhouse, there is a living area with a large table to the right side and three wooden chairs, two on the right and one on the left; one door at the left that leads outside and one door at the right that leads to the kitchen.  William is pacing the room, and then abruptly opens the outside door)

William: (Shouts outside) Benjamin, get in here!  (Leaves the door open and sits on one of the chairs on the right)

Benjamin: (Slouches in from outside) Yes, Father?

William: Sit down, Son; I want to speak with you.  (Benjamin closes the door and sits on the chair on the left, slumping in the seat) Now, seeing as you are nearly a man and I have barely said five words to you since your birth, you know that me summoning you here must be of great import.

Benjamin: (Borderline sullen) Yes, Father.

William: (Pauses when sensing the sass, then chooses to ignore it) Hm.  So, I have been observing your behavior these past few months, and I can no longer remain silent whilst you engage in activities that are becoming increasingly destructive, both to yourself and to this family.

Benjamin: I do not know of what you speak, Father.

William: (Reaches beside his chair and holds up a “Don’t Tread on Me” flag) Have any idea from whence this came, then?  Are you concerned of late about the welfare of rattlesnakes, perchance?

Benjamin: (Stands abruptly) Give that back!

William: Mind your tone, insolent pup.  (Benjamin slowly sits again) Whilst you are under my roof, you will fear and tremble before me as any child should before their sire!  Now, what is this – (Shakes the flag at Benjamin, then angrily snaps it back to the floor next to his chair) all about?  Tell me it is anything but you getting yourself mixed up with those… treasonous, rabble-rousing, rebellious anarchists!

Benjamin: They are called Patriots, Father!

William: Patriots, my foot!  If they actually were patriots, they would remain loyal to their King!

Benjamin: But when a king is not loyal to his subjects and treats them little better than serfs, what choice do they have but to fight for their freedom, their rights, their dignity?!  That is patriotism, Father – loyalty to one’s country and to the people in it!

William: (Holds his hands over his ears and rocks back and forth) Treason talk!  Treason talk!  La-la-la-la-la-la!

Benjamin: (Makes a sound of disgust) You just do not understand!  You, with your life of comfort and ease, what would you know what the rest of us suffer?

William: (No longer holding his ears) In what house did you grow up?  You seem to forget that, back in my day, I survived not one but two bouts of smallpox, along with having to serve in the French and Indian War, even though I had no interest in fighting over which country took more of the Native peoples’ lands, but did I complain?  No, I did my duty!  Not to mention that this farm is hardly Buckingham Palace, and every day I labor to keep you fed, and clothed, and sheltered!  As a matter of fact, this is the longest amount of time I have sat in one place in over 25 years!

Benjamin: That is all well and good, but relatively speaking, you live a life of luxury.

William: Ha!  You have a funny way of seeing the world – you get that from your mother.

(A woman enters from the door on the right, wiping her sweaty face with a burned apron)

Mary: (Nearly breathless) You called, William?

William: This does not concern you, Mary – back to the kitchen with ye, and do not show your face again unless it is to say that dinner is served!

Mary: Of course!  (Turns and mutters) Tyrant.  (Labors back in the kitchen)

William: And so, Benjamin, I am not familiar with this luxury in which you believe I reside: do explain.

Benjamin: Think on it, Father: whilst thousands live on the streets or out in the woods, scrambling for scraps, we are able to eat wholesome meals every day, and have two entire rooms to call our own.

William: Well-earned, I thank you.

Benjamin: And all that you say you suffer, you know that would be lessened if the taxes on… everything were not so many nor so high!

William: Heh!  Do not remind me of those – barely make enough to prevent us from living in the woods.

Benjamin: And remember when we had to house those soldiers last winter, in our home, whilst we struggled not to freeze to death in the barn?

William: Like it or nay, that was our duty.

Benjamin: It should not have been!  Practically made a servant, on your own property!  Just one of many Intolerable Acts – (William scoffs) yes, Intolerable, I say!  And not being allowed to have our own town meetings; the port of Boston closed; civilians fired upon!  We must break free from our chains of slavery, Father!

William: (Crooks an eyebrow at him) And whilst you are breaking your supposed chains, will you also be breaking the actual chains currently on the actual enslaved people in this country, hm?

Benjamin: (Fidgets) Uh….

William: Well?

Benjamin: (In a small voice) Baby steps.

William: (Waves him off) Argh, you are all noise.  You whine about trifles and cause a lot of turmoil for everyone, yet have no conception of how to get any of the real work done!  We are fine as we are, Son, and any troubles we face are as temporary as everything else in life, just – leave it be!

Benjamin: (Stands in a passion) Never!  Not whilst we live in oppression under a tyrant!

William: (Also stands) And what exactly do you plan to do with your newfound freedom?  Go toss some more perfectly good tea into the harbor?  (Gasps in horror) You were not part of that shameful display those ridiculous Sons of Liberty partook in, were you?!

Benjamin: (Sits) Only because I missed the planning meeting, to my eternal regret.

William: (Buries his head in his hands while sinking back into his chair) Oh, that I should live to see the day when a son of mine became a common rebel!  Woe is me, that I must be confronted with his wrongheaded behavior, insensible to all reason – (Benjamin rolls his eyes, takes a knife and a stick out of his pockets, and starts whittling) not a single ounce of respect for his aged father, no gratitude, no – (Lowers his hands and sees Benjamin whittling) Are – are you – dare you whittle whilst I am speaking to you?!

Benjamin: (Stands again) Yes, Father, I dare: I dare to stand up for what I believe in, to fight for what is right, for myself and for my fellow Americans –

William: (Clutches his chest in horror) Ah!

Benjamin: – and if that means defying you and everything you represent, then so be it!  (Pockets the knife and stick, stalks to the outside door, opens it, and turns back) I hold no anger in my heart toward you, Father: only pity.  I just hope one day you fully understand how wrong you have been.  (Exits, leaving the door open)

William: And I just hope one day you have a son JUST LIKE YOU! 

1808 

(In a farmhouse, there is a living area with a large table to the right side and three wooden chairs, two on the right and one on the left; one door at the left that leads outside and one door at the right that leads to the kitchen.  Benjamin, older and looking very much like William, is pacing the room, and then abruptly opens the outside door)

Benjamin: (Shouts outside) Thomas, get in here! (Leaves the door open and sits on one of the chairs on the right)

            Thomas: (Slouches in from outside) Yes, Father?

Benjamin: Sit down, Son; I want to speak with you.  (Thomas closes the door and sits on the chair on the left, slumping in the seat) Now, seeing as you are nearly a man and I have barely said five words to you since your birth, you know that me summoning you here must be of great import.

            Thomas: (Borderline sullen) Yes, Father.

Benjamin: (Pauses when sensing the sass, then chooses to ignore it) Hm.  So, I have been observing your behavior these past few months, and I can no longer remain silent whilst you engage in activities that are becoming increasingly destructive, both to yourself and to this family.

            Thomas: I do not know of what you speak, Father.

Benjamin: (Reaches besides his chair and holds up a “No Embargo!” sign) I know a rebel when I see one.

Thomas: (Slumps further) Oh Father, what would you know about tyranny and oppression?                                                                

Benjamin: (Drops the sign, flabbergasted) I – you – I would have you know that I risked my life to make this country free; I was fighting the rule of dictators before you were even born; and I will eat my hat if a son of mine claims to know more about tyranny and oppression than I do!

Thomas: Yes, Father, we know all about you risking everything so that Mother and I would be safe from tyranny and oppression.

(A woman enters from the door on the right, wiping her sweaty face with a burned apron)                        

Martha : (Nearly breathless) You called, Thomas?

            Benjamin: This does not concern you, Martha – back in the kitchen with ye, and do not show your face again unless it is to say that dinner is served!

            Martha: Of course!  (Turns and mutters) Tyrant.  (Labors back in the kitchen))

Thomas: But Father, do you not see that this Embargo Act closing our ports is destroying our economy and crushing our freedoms just as much as those Intolerable Acts did in your youth?

Benjamin: The two hardly can be compared.

Thomas: Well then, what about the Alien and Sedition Acts, directed against our own citizens, hardly 10 years ago!  Were they not the same as those acts that you fought against as tyranny?  And if our own presumably democratic government did it once, it could easily do it again!

Benjamin: And rightfully so, those treasonous, rabble-rousing, rebellious anarchists!  They do not know how lucky they have it!  (Thomas rolls his eyes, takes a knife and a stick out of his pockets, and starts whittling; Benjamin speaks to the middle distance and does not notice what Thomas is doing) You young people today have no idea what it is to suffer under actual oppression!  You should be grateful for what my generation sacrificed so that you could live the life of luxury you do now!  Why, back in my day….