Story 400: Happy Anniversary to Me?

 (Friend 1 is sitting on a chair in the kitchen, staring into empty space, when the phone rings)

Friend 1: (Stares at the ringing phone in confusion for a few moments, then answers it) Heeeyyy???

Friend 2: Hiiiii!!!  Happy Birthday!

Friend 1: It’s not my birthday.

Friend 2: …Since when?

Friend 1: We all only ever get one birthday: the rest are just anniversaries, celebrating the day of our birth.

Friend 2: Oh for crying out – Happy Anniversary, then.

Friend 1: Thanks, but it’s a bummer.

Friend 2: Why?  This year you said you wanted to do, and I quote, “Absolutely Nothing,” and it’s not a dreaded milestone like 150 or something.

Friend 1: I know, but it’s making me look back on my steadily accumulating years of life and realize that, yes, I really have done nothing of concrete value in pretty much any of them.

Friend 2: Would you please go volunteer at the animal shelter or literacy center already so this recurring theme’ll finally be a moot point?

Friend 1: I’m too lazy.

Friend 2: Well then, why even bring it up?

Friend 1: I’m also thinking back on my birthdays as a kid –

Friend 2: Ah-ah, don’t you mean “anniversaries”?

Friend 1: I was ignorant of the true meanings of those words at the time.  Anyway: all those fun, unnecessary celebrations.  Why do we make a big deal of the day we were thrust into this cold, uncaring world?  Is it to make up for the other 364 that are horrific?

Friend 2: They’re not always that bad.

Friend 1: Regardless.  Why do we throw destructive parties or fly out to Las Vegas or eat an entire cake or a combination of all these things on the same day in the Earth’s rotation around the Sun just to mark off another year down the drain?

Friend 2: If you want a serious answer, I don’t have one.

Friend 1: It’s just so odd.  Whose idea was it that everyone should want to highlight the day showing you’re one more year closer to death?

Friend 2: If I go back in time to find out, would you shut up about it then?

Friend 1: Maybe.  I just find the whole birthday business a very strange habit.

Friend 2: Well, think of it as having survived another year instead, if that makes you feel better.

Friend 1: It doesn’t.

Friend 2: Then maybe think all the way back to when you were a blissfully ignorant child and actually enjoyed the day without pondering existential dilemmas.  Go play with your toys or swim in a pool or whatever you did way back when.

Friend 1: Any toys I have left are in a storage bin buried somewhere, and the building’s pool is closed this year due to lack of lifeguards.

Friend 2: Argh, fine – chocolate, then.  You still like chocolate, right?

Friend 1: To an unhealthy degree, yes.

Friend 2: Then go get a decadently rich chocolate dessert and celebrate your anniversary with life by treating your taste buds and neurotransmitters to bean-flavored antioxidants.

Friend 1: That sounds like an excellent idea – I have a few tasties tucked away that’ll fit the bill nicely, so I’ll go get them right now!

Friend 2: Good: go to town toasting your long-term relationship with yourself.

Friend 1: I knew I was friends with you for a reason.

Story 365: How Time Doth Fly; Or, Now There Is a Story for Every Day of the Year

          (Friend 1 and Friend 2 are sitting on beach chairs in the local park, watching the lake and occasional passers-by as the autumn leaves fall gently around them)

            Friend 1: (Wearing summer clothes and sunglasses) You think the trees missed the memo that there’s no fall season on this planet anymore?

            Friend 2: Probably – I’m just waiting for winter to get completely phased out, but I think that’s got a few more polar vortexes in it before then.

            Friend 1: Huh…. Vortexes or vortices?

            Friend 2: No idea.

            (They sit in companionable silence for a few minutes)

            Friend 1: You know, I think the last real, authentic autumn chill we had – that school’s-starting-summer’s-over-no-more-fun chill – was back when we went to that concert five years ago.

            Friend 2: You mean the Manly Men one?

            Friend 1: Yeppers.

            Friend 2: That was seven years ago.

Friend 1: No it wasn’t, it was… hmmmmm…. (Stares unseeingly into the distance while mentally stretching back across the years)

Friend 2: 2013.

Friend 1: (Shaking head) Nooooo….

Friend 2: (Nodding head) Yesssss….

Friend 1: It wasn’t seven years, that’s the length of a TV series!  I remember it as if it were last year, but I’m being generous and saying five.

Friend 2: (Works on a phone) Then chunks of years must’ve fallen out your ears – look.  (Hands over the phone showing photos from the concert and points at the date) See that?  Time-stamped August 15, 2013.

Friend 1: (Hands back the phone) Lies.

Friend 2: Whatever makes you happy.  (Puts the phone away and settles back in the beach chair to relax)

Friend 1: OK then –

Friend 2: [Sigh] Yes?

Friend 1: How about when you had your appendix taken out?

Friend 2: That’ll be a year in December.

Friend 1: Ha!  Wrong!  I clearly remember it being 90° that day, so it must have been July 2019, which makes it a year and a half in December!

Friend 2: I think I’d know the date when I’ve had one of my internal organs removed.  And it’s been 90° in December for quite some time now.

Friend 1: Oh.  Are you sure North America just hasn’t slid down into the Southern Hemisphere, and no one wants to tell us?

Friend 2: We’d probably have a lot more problems going on if that’d happened.

Friend 1: Gotcha.  (Ponders for a few moments) What about when I was having my job crisis meltdown a while back?  Was that five years ago?

Friend 2: (Thinks for a bit) Yes – it was a little before the latest round of Astral Skirmishes movies had come out.

Friend 1: (Laughs) Oh yeah.  Oh wow, it feels like that whole hullabaloo just started, and now it’s already over and the first movie was released half a decade ago.

Friend 2: Mm-hm.  Before you know it, the 20^th anniversary edition’ll be out and the special effects’ll be upgraded to whatever 3D-V.R.-A.I.-A.R.-whatever is out at that point.

Friend 1: Yeah… oh.

Friend 2: What?

Friend 1: By the time the 20^th anniversary edition comes out, we’ll be in our 50s.

Friend 2: (Calculates the years) Oh yeah – that’s funny.

Friend 1: That’s darned depressing, is what that is.

Friend 2: Oh come on, we’ve been doing the same stuff for nearly a decade now, you think our lives are really going to be that much different just because we’re middle-aged?  By then, 50’ll probably be the new 10!

            Friend 1: I guess, but at that point I’ll have to start wasting more time in doctors’ offices getting more and more tests, and fighting against my own failing stamina, and yelling at insurance companies for prescriptions I’d rather not have to take but need to or I’ll die, and going to more funerals than weddings, and –

Friend 2: I feel like I’ve lost 10 years just having this conversation.

Friend 1: Fine; we’ll go back to enjoying the unseasonable day, then.  (They watch several ducks paddle by on the lake)  Think we’ll even remember this conversation in 10 years?

Friend 2: Knowing my luck, this will be the last memory I ever forget.

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.