Story 355: One Week Where Nothing Happens

            (In a department store’s breakroom, two coworkers are watching the tiny TV) 

          News Anchor: It is estimated that the recovery from this earthquake will take years, if not decades.  And that’s not factoring in the possibility that other just-as-severe earthquakes may soon follow, if the seismic readings are any indication.  If I may editorialize for a moment: just what we need right now, huh?  And now, Sports.

            Sports Anchor: All playoffs for the year are officially cancelled, and I’m wondering if I’m still going to have a job tomorrow.

            News Anchor: OK!  Moving on to Entertainment News!

            Entertainment Anchor: Eh?  News?

           News Anchor: (Listening to earpiece) This just in: another disaster has struck in the form of –

            (Coworker 1 picks up a remote control and turns off the TV)

            Coworker 2: Hey, I wanted to hear what the form of the next disaster is.

            Coworker 1: Do you?!  What are you going to do about it – actually help the victims?!

            Coworker 2: Probably not, but it’s good to stay informed.

           Coworker 1: Not right now, it isn’t!  Why can’t the news go back to boring stuff, like rescuing foolish kittens from trees, or the thrill of a tricky putt?  Stupid news nowadays.

            Coworker 2: Yes, everything bad that happens is all the news’s fault.

            Coworker 1: You know what I mean!  Can’t we just have one week where nothing happens?!

            Coworker 2: (Thinks for a few moments) OK.

            Coworker 1: Glad you agree.

            Coworker 2: No, I mean OK, you got it: one week where nothing happens.

            Coworker 1: Shyeah, right, what are you, a genie or something like that?

           Coworker 2: Something like that.  You just never really wished for anything this badly before.

          Coworker 1: …Wait a minute, I think somebody else here mentioned you did something like that for them a while ago.

            Coworker 2: Who?

            Coworker 1: You know, what’s-their-name.

            Coworker 2: Oh yeah, that one.  So there you go.

            Coworker 1: Yeah, but I figured they were just, you know, lying.

           Coworker 2: Nope: it’s what I do when I’m not processing returns.  Enjoy your week of nothing happening.

            Coworker 1: Huh?

ONE WEEK LATER

            (In a department store’s breakroom, Coworker 2 is watching the tiny TV)

           News Anchor: – the numbers continue to increase as everyone wonders whether this, truly, is the End Times.  And now, Weather.

          Weather Anchor: Well, we’ve got some off-season blizzards to go with those ongoing tidal waves –

            (Coworker 1 bursts into the breakroom, scoops up the remote control, and throws it at the TV, which turns it off)

            Coworker 2: Hey, don’t you want to hear more about the off-season blizzards?  Temps might reach -30°.

            Coworker 1: What was that?!

            Coworker 2: Sorry, that was in Celsius – it would be around -20° in old-fashioned Fahrenheit.

            Coworker 1: No, no, no, I mean what was that last week?!  What happened?!

            Coworker 2: Nothing.  As you requested.

            Coworker 1: But I – we all –

            Coworker 2: Sounds like...?

            Coworker 1: Nothing happened!

            Coworker 2: Ye-es, I believe we established that.

           Coworker 1: But I mean we all… lost a week, or were on ice, or I don’t know what!  I don’t even know how to describe it!

            Coworker 2: Oh yeah, so basically, I just put the Universe on hold.

            Coworker 1: …Huh?

           Coworker 2: Well, in order for nothing to happen for a week, it took some doing but I had to stop everything so that nothing, in fact, would happen.  At all, anywhere.  I believe that satisfies your requirements.

            Coworker 1: But – no!  I meant I wanted nothing bad to happen for a week!  Or sad, or horrible, or cruel, or destructively weird, or –

           Coworker 2: You can’t add stipulations now, it’s over.  Next time, be more specific in your blanket demands.

           Coworker 1: Fine!  I wish nothing bad happens for a week, and that includes the following items: murder, disasters both natural and human-made, bigotry, abuse, insect invasions –

            Coworker 2: Too late: you only get the one wish.

            Coworker 1: That’s not fair!

            Coworker 2: Neither is life, but not much can be done in either case.

           Coworker 1: But you tricked me!  I’ve been working with you for over five years and you never once said you granted wishes, and you only tell me when I’m not prepared and already made a casual almost-wish!

            Coworker 2: You meant it at the time.

          Coworker 1: Yeah, well, I didn’t get the heads-up on the real-world implications!  This is basically entrapment – I had no informed consent on the wish-granting!

           Coworker 2: Look, there’s no point in complaining about it now: I did what you asked, it’s over and done for almost a whole day now, the planet’s no worse off than it was before, so really, just be grateful for the blessings you currently have, and start prepping for the storms and/or tidal waves that’re headed our way.  (Picks up the remote control from the floor and turns back on the TV)

            News Anchor: – it seems yet another swarm of locusts has wiped out –

           Coworker 1: You’re the worst wish granter ever, you know that?  (Takes off coat and starts to leave to clock in for shift)

            Coworker 2: (Without looking away from the TV) Oh yeah, don’t forget: at some point tonight, we need to do your annual employee review.  A few core competencies there you gotta work on.

            Coworker 1: (Raises fists to the ceiling) This is the worst year ever!

            Coworker 2: Says you: 1918 was no prize.  (Coworker 1 slams the breakroom door on the way out) So was 1883, come to think of it.  1619 was absolute garbage.  Also 1347 to 1351 were horrific.  Not to mention 597 and 605 BCE.  Wow, pretty much every year is the worst, to be honest.  The pre-Homo sapiens era wasn’t so bad, though.

Story 322: Welcome to the Roaring 20s (Again)

            (At an apartment on December 31, 2019)

           Host: (Wearing a flapper dress and opening the door to several guests) Hello, old sports, and welcome to our New Year’s Eve Party ringing in the Roaring 20s!  Please disregard this prop cigarette in my hand – you still can’t smoke in here.

          Guest 1: That’s OK – (Secretively pulls out a brown paper bag from inside a large coat) I brought the “stuff.”  (Winks exaggeratedly)

            Host: Thanks, just put it on the kitchen table.

           Guest 1: Oh-ho, where just anyone can see it?  What if we get – you know – (Looks up and down the hallway and stage-whispers) “raided?”

           Host: Prohibition doesn’t go into effect until mid-January, so we’ve still got a few weeks.

            Guest 1:  Oh.  I thought this was a speakeasy theme?

            Host: Then I would’ve asked you for a password to screen out the coppers, silly!

            (They join the rest of the party – someone takes off the record that was playing on a turntable and instead puts on one that plays “The Charleston,” so everyone starts dancing “The Charleston”)

            Host: (Bursting into the middle of the dancers) No!  No!  No!  Stop this madness right now!  There will be no “The Charleston” played or danced here, since there was no “The Charleston” until 1923 and this is the eve of 1920!

            Guest 2: Hey, you said this was a 20s New Year’s Eve Party!

           Host: The invitation clearly stated that this is New Year’s Eve 1920, so right now we’re still technically in 1919!

            Guest 3: (Mutters to Guest 4) Actually, we’re still technically in 2019.

            Host: Who said that?!

            (Later in the evening)

         Guest 5: (To Host while sipping absinthe) While I admire your dedication to historical accuracy, you must admit that strictly adhering to the pre-1920 aspect instead of the entire subsequent decade does rather limit the selection of music, dances, clothing, food, and pretty much anything else that made the 20s the excessive slide into the Great Depression we all know and love.  Right now, everyone’s still dealing with the shell shock and influenza pandemic that sprung from the Great War, which does put a bit of a damper on things, wouldn’t you say?

            Host: Your unsolicited opinion is duly noted.

         Guest 6: (Enters the apartment wearing a disco suit) Wassup, dudes, I am ready to boogie on down and go bananas all up in this joint, to the MAX!

            Host: (Crushes a champagne flute in a fist while pointing to Guest 6) Out!  Of!  My!  Sight!  Anachronistic!  Floozy!

            Guest 6: My bad, dawg.

            Host: Gaaaahhhh!!!

            (Midnight)

            Guests: Happy New Year!

            Host: (Collapses in a chair) Yay.

            Guest 7: (Sits on the chair’s arm) Thanks for the party – that was a lot of fun!

            Host: I guess, if you ignore “Welcome to 1920” and make this a “Welcome to Whatever Year You Want” mess, then yes, it was loads of fun.

            Guest 7: (Sips champagne) I suppose.  You do know that flappers showed up a lot earlier than 1920, but really didn’t become entrenched in American culture until the movie The Flapper was released almost halfway through that year, right?

            Host: (Eyes widen in horror) Whaaaaaat???

            (Someone starts playing 21^st-century music from their cell phone’s speakers)

            Guest 7: Cheer up – you can try again in 2120!  (Leaves)

            Host: (Mutters) It’s barely begun, and my fun-loving decade’s already ruined.