Story 458: Endless Afternoon

“I love afternoons.”

“I’m more of a morning person myself.”

“Nah, I don’t feel rested early enough in the day to be a morning person.  I like getting everything done in the morning, then after lunch have absolutely nothing scheduled until dinnertime, which is preferably after 6:00 so I can maximize that part of the day.”

“Sounds boring.”

“One person’s ‘boring’ is another person’s ‘relaxing.’”

“OK, so what do you do during your maximized leisure hours?”

“What do you mean, ‘do?’  Just what I said earlier, nothing!”

“You can’t do nothing, that’s just staring into space, or sleeping.”

“I do a bit of that – sleeping, that is.  Take a little naptime.”

“Doesn’t that throw off your sleep schedule at night?”

“Eh.”

“So if you’re not working or at an event or whatever in the afternoon, you just fall asleep?”

“Yeah – well, not every time.  I usually watch a movie or play a video game or read – you know, veg out.  It’s all part of my perfect day.”

“You would do that for hours every single day if you could?”

“Heh-heh, more than that.  All day, every day, until the bitter end.  I wish the entire day could be one giant afternoon, to be honest.”

“That’s called ‘idealized childhood.’”

“…Oh yeah.  Whaddya know?”

Story 401: Ice Truck Vs Ice Cream Truck

 On a humid, lazy, summer afternoon in Suburbia, USA, the hazy streets are empty as all the idle children rest in their homes, freezing in those with air conditioning and melting in those without.  The hours tick by slowly, and all is still.

Then, in the distance….

They hear it: The Call.  Faintly at first, then not much louder as it approaches:

<Bing, bing-bing-bing-bing-bing, bing-bing, bing, bing-bing, bing-bing, bing>

One-by-one, ears perk up; heads peek out windows; and The Pleading begins:

“Can-I-have-some-money-for-the-ice-truck-please-please-please-please-PLEEEEAAAAAASSSSEEEEE?!!!!!”

“Yes, fine, take it, but no dessert tonight then.”

“Yayyyyyyyyyy – ohhhhhhhh – yayyyyyyy!!!!!”

The ice truck rounds the corner at the head of the block and stops halfway down as The Pediatric Swarm approaches; the music continues as Ice Truck Employee dutifully takes orders and money and hands over flavored ices to the little waiting hands, remembering an age when the thought of owning an ice truck all summer long was the height of cool.

“Ha!”

“What?”

“Nothing, kid – enjoy the ice, don’t play in the street, see you all tomorrow.”  The ice truck is driven to the next block to repeat the ritual.

And so it goes, all summer long.

Until one day.

As the ice truck begins its usual approach down the block, in the distance at the other end an ice cream truck appears and begins its approach.

<Bing, bing-bing-bing-bing->

<Doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot, doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot, doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot-doot>

The two trucks stop 10 feet apart, grille staring down grille.  Between them on the sidewalk stand an expectant group of children, money in fists, and heads swinging back and forth between the two vehicles.

Ice Truck Employee leans out the driver’s side window to address Ice Cream Truck Employee: “You’re poaching, friend: this here’s Ice Truck Territory.”

Ice Cream Truck Employee leans out the driver’s side window and blows a disdainful bubble of gum: “I reckon this here’s Ice Cream Truck Territory now, friend.”

“Says who?”

“Says my truck being here, that’s who.”

Little heads swivel back to the ice truck for a response.

“Whelp,” Ice Truck Employee says while revving the engine, “suppose I reckon this block ain’t big enough for the both of us, partner.”

Ice Cream Truck Employee also revs the engine: “Suppose not.  We could act like civilized human beings and call our respective Corporate offices to straighten out our distribution routes, but I saw we joust for it instead.”

“That is an excellent idea.” 

Each truck beeps as they begin slowly reversing away from each other. 

One child goes up to the ice truck and speaks through the permanently open passenger’s side window: “I actually want cups from both of your trucks – ”

“Stay out of this, Susie!” 

Ice Truck Employee floors the gas to quickly reach the top of the street, puts on the parking brake, and starts to gather supplies.  With a flash of headlights from each truck, they signal they are ready.  The competing theme music tunes are blared at maximum volume from each truck’s rooftop speaker; tires squeal and spew smoke; and both trucks speed toward each other as their drivers lean out the windows, one foot stretched to depress the gas pedal.  Ice Cream Truck Employee hauls out a lance made of stacked cones six feet long, topped by a giant scoop of blue raspberry/vanilla swirl; Ice Truck Employee also hauls out a lance, this one made of cups and topped with a chunk of lemon ice.  Each lance topper is as hard as a rock.

Both Employees scream a battle cry in the key of their truck’s theme music and drive slightly to the side of each other so the trucks do not crash but their lances can reach the other’s face.

“Aaaaaahhhhh!” screams Ice Truck Employee.

“Aaaaaahhhhh!” screams Ice Cream Truck Employee.

 “Aaaaaahhhh!” scream the children observers, already mourning the waste of the lance toppers.

<Bing, bing-bing-bing-bing> screams the ice truck speaker.

<Doot-doot-doot-doot-doot> screams the ice cream truck speaker.

The trucks pass, and each Employee whiffs their chance.

“Ohhhhhhh,” the children sigh in a mixture of relief and disappointment.

The trucks skid while turning to face each other again, the lance toppers wobbling dangerously.  The Employees rev their engines anew.

“Best two out of three?” Ice Cream Truck Employee snarls.

“Bring it on!” Ice Truck Employee crows.

“HOLD IT!”

Contestants and spectators turn to face an unexpected and unwelcome group on the scene: Angry Parents

“What on Earth is going on here?!” Spokesparent demands.

“This doesn’t concern you, Meddling Sire!”  Ice Cream Truck Employee shakes the lance at the new group, nearly dislodging the melting weapon.

“Listen pal, I called your boss: your route’s scheduled to come through here at 4:00 on a Sunday, you can come earlier on Saturdays, now beat it!”

Ice Cream Truck Employee turns to glare at Ice Truck Employee: “This isn’t over yet, comrade: we’ll meet again on the field of battle, and I will have vengeance!”  Ice Cream Truck Employee draws the lance back inside the truck and begins licking the topper while executing a slow K-turn to exit the block, lowering the speaker’s music a smidgen on the way.

Ice Truck Employee turns to Spokesparent: “Thanks.”

“Don’t bother – I called your boss too, and you’re late for the rest of your route, plus you’re gonna get written up for wasting supplies and endangering the well-being of minors.”

“Oh.”  Ice Truck Employee turns to the group of children: “Anyone still want an ice?”

They all raise their money fists into the air: “Yaaaaayyyyy!!!!”

“See – they’ll always love me.”

Story 370: All the Ornaments Must Go on the Tree!

 (Sibling 2 walks from the car to the house while carrying a heavy cardboard box and kicks the front door several times)

Sibling 1: (Lazily opens the door) Heeeeeeeey, look who’s breaking and entering!

Sibling 2: Cute – mind if I drop your garbage in there now?  (Holds out the box)

Sibling 1: Oh yeah, sure.  (Opens the door wider to let in Sibling 2, then locks seven different bolts after closing it)

Sibling 2: (Drops the box with a crash onto the living room floor) Crime here that bad?

Sibling 1: Hm?  Oh, no – habit.  (Dives toward the box to rip it open and noisily rummage through the contents)  You got everything?

Sibling 2: (Strolls over to the almost-fully decorated tree) Pretty much; I had to leave the one with your huge baby photo plastered on Santa’s sleigh behind, `cause Mom wanted “at least one reminder of our darling child on our family tree.”  You still go over there to see her and Dad once a week, right?

Sibling 1: Sure do.  No worries, I’ll just snatch it right off that sucker next time I’m there, heh-heh-heh.

Sibling 2: Don’t you dare – she’ll think she’s losing her mind when she can’t find it later.

Sibling 1: Not a problem, I’ll do it right in front of her; I’m an honest thief.  (Starts taking ornaments from the box to hang on the tree)

Sibling 2: (Watches for a few moments) I dunno, this thing looks pretty full already, are you gonna be able to fit all this new-old stuff on it now, too?

Sibling 1: Yes.  (Continues to hang ornaments without hesitation)

Sibling 2: You knew I was bringing over about a hundred of your kiddie ornaments today –

Sibling 1: They’re not “kiddie,” they’re “classic.”

Sibling 2: Whatever – you filled up the tree before you even got to these!

Sibling 1: Nonsense: there’s still plenty of room.

Sibling 2: (Holds one of the branches out a bit) I count three on this branch alone.

Sibling 1: Is there a rule somewhere that there can only be one ornament per branch?  (Props an ice pop stick reindeer on a lower branch surrounded by a skating dog and an entire snow family)

Sibling 2: I guess not, but it looks better to space them out more, and you don’t want the whole thing to fall over and break everything.

Sibling 1: All taken care of on that front.  (Lifts up several branches to reveal the tree trunk has been reinforced with steel poles, then points to the top to show guy wires leading from there to the four corners of the room)

Sibling 2: All right then.

Sibling 1: So you gonna help me out or what?

Sibling 2: Thought nearly throwing my back out hauling this stuff over here would be enough, but OK.  (Takes an knitted nutcracker from the box and squeezes through the laden branches to an emptier spot near the trunk; spits out needles) Where’d you even get all this new stuff anyway?

Sibling 1: (Adds a third star as a tree topper) Oh, here and there.

Sibling 2: (Tries to leave but an arm is now stuck; panics) Um, oh no, help – I think the tree is taking me!

Sibling 1: (Walks over and pulls Sibling 2 out of the tree branches) Whatever happens, never show fear.

Sibling 2: What?

Sibling 1: (Starts hanging a string of embroidered train cars across the tree’s middle) Have a firm hand, show it who’s boss, take no sap!

Sibling 2: Sass?

Sibling 1: I said sap!  (Pushes face into the branches) I see you trying to trap us forever in there!  Your evil plans are foiled once again!

Sibling 2: You know you’re yelling at something that’s technically dead, don’t you?

Sibling 1: Its sacrifice for our enjoyment is not in vain, so I fail to see why it insists on fighting its fate.

Sibling 2: (Watches as more ornaments are shoved in there) I don’t know, I think you’re smothering whatever’s left.  Where’re you even gonna hang the lights?

Sibling 1: (Stares at the tree with eyes widening in horror) Son of a – !

Sibling 2: Maybe it’s a good thing: there’s so much stuff on here the lights’d probably overheat and burn the whole place down.

Sibling 1: But lights are 90% of the effect!

Sibling 2: What about one of your 10 toppers up there, can you light those?

Sibling 1: And how would the rest of the tree look then, hm?  I’ll tell you how – like a fool!

Sibling 2: (Holds up an ornament from the box) Well I doubt you could event fit one more macaroni… doll… whatever this thing is you made in kindergarten –

Sibling 1: IT IS THE VIRGIN MOTHER AND CHILD!

Sibling 2: Wow.  Then maybe stick them on a table or something.

Sibling 1: And then where would I fit all my Nativity scenes?!  (Sweeps an arm toward a side table featuring five Nativity scenes of various size and scope) And Baby Jesus can’t be anywhere near there because He hasn’t been born yet!

Sibling 2: But He can be on the tree?

Sibling 1: Yes, because that’s an ornament!  (Grabs the macaroni, climbs a stepladder, and places the piece between two angel tree toppers) There.  Now hand me a string of lights while you finish up the rest of the box.

Sibling 2: I think this whole thing’s a fire hazard by now.

Sibling 1: I have seven fire extinguishers sprinkled throughout the place – HAND ME THE LIGHTS!

(Sibling 2 hands over a string of lights and continues jamming ornaments onto the packed tree as Sibling 1 works down, adding lights until both finish their decorating around the same time.  Sibling 1 plugs the last string into the wall outlet, and they stand back to view the colorful, bursting tree)

Sibling 2: Well, surprisingly enough, you did it.  I wasn’t sure about your hardened dough snowflake from Scouts at the end there, but you managed to fit every ornament from childhood until now onto this tree.  Except the one you’re planning to steal later.

Sibling 1: (Sighs contentedly) Indeed.  This is the most perfect Christmas tree in the whole wide world.

Sibling 2: I’m sure the one at Rockefeller Center pales in comparison.

Sibling 1: (Tilts head while squinting eyes) Still….

Sibling 2: What?

Sibling 1: Needs tinsel.

Story 299: Why Don’t You Go Outside and Play? `Cause I’m Working.

(Co-Worker 1 and Co-Worker 2 are at their desks, side-by-side in a partitioned-off area of the main office)

Co-Worker 1: (Suddenly stops typing and stares off into space; to Co-Worker 2) You ever wonder, what’s the point of anything?

Co-Worker 2: (Stops typing and stares at Co-Worker 1) No, and I wish you wouldn’t either.

Co-Worker 1: (Looks up through the partition’s window) Uh-oh, Big Boss is headed this way.

Co-Worker 2: Great, and I’m not even halfway through my report that was due… (Looks at watch) yesterday.

Co-Worker 1: You certainly let that deadline get away from you.

(Manager enters from around the corner of the partition and immediately begins talking)

Manager: So, I suddenly realized what modern society’s problem is.

(Co-Workers 1 and 2 stare at Manager, then at each other, then back at Manager)

Co-Worker 1: Oh?

Manager: Yeah, it all boils down to one simple problem: nobody goes outside and plays anymore!

(Co-Workers 1 and 2 stare at Manager, then at each other, then back at Manager)

Co-Worker 2: Oh?

Manager: (Grabs a chair, rolls it over to them, and turns it backwards to sit) I mean, kids today –

Co-Worker 1: Oh, here we go.

Manager: Hear me out: kids today are all sitting in front of screens playing video games, watching TV, wandering all over unsavory places on the Internet, and typing entire conversations to strangers, they’ve forgotten how to walk and talk!

Co-Worker 1: While I agree that that’s the overall trend, I do see plenty of kids playing sports, riding bikes, causing mischief on the roads, and rampaging through playgrounds, so I must deem your argument fallacious.

Co-Worker 2: (Whips out a notebook and begins scribbling) Thanks for the new word – I’m going to try using it in a sentence today.

Co-Worker 1: Not too much, or it’ll lose its power.

Manager: All right, forget the kids; I mean, look at you two now!  (The two look down at themselves) Sitting there in front of your computers all day long, when there’s a whole big world of life out there – (Gestures randomly out there) begging to be lived!

Co-Worker 1: Yeah, but we’re… working…?  Am I missing something?

Manager: You see!  Always an excuse!

Co-Worker 1: What?!

Co-Worker 2: Aren’t we being paid to sit in front of computers all day long?  Isn’t that what the company wants from us?

Manager: Well, it’s time you two took a break.  (Stands to reach the power cord where both computers are connected and rips the plug out of the wall)

Co-Worker 1: (Gasps in horror at the now-blank screen) A cold shut-down!

Co-Worker 2: (Also gasps in horror at the now-blank screen) My overdue report!  And I haven’t hit “Save” in 20 minutes, like a fool!

Manager: (Twirls the cord) You can thank me later.

Co-Worker 2: Can I actually remind you of this later when you’re yelling at me for not submitting this until next week?

Manager: (Laughs maniacally) Silly billy.  (Grabs the backs of their chairs and wheels them out of their section of the office) And away we go!

Co-Worker 2: (To Co-Worker 1) Should we run for it?

Co-Worker 1: Nah – I kind of want to see where this is going.

(Manager wheels them to the elevator, wheels them out when they arrive at the ground floor, wheels them through the lobby and out the front door as everyone else there watches uncomprehendingly, wheels them to the park next door, and collapses when they arrive at a playground filled with toddlers and their adult guardians)

Manager: (Lying on the soft hard-top, panting and pointing at the playground) All right – there it is – go play.  (Lets hand fall)

(Co-Workers 1 and 2, the toddlers, and the guardians all stare at each other for a few moments, then Co-Workers 1 and 2 simultaneously stand, life Manager up by the arms, and set the body on one of the office chairs.  Co-Worker 1 wheels that chair off the playground while Co-Worker 2 follows, dragging the other chair behind)

Co-Worker 1: (Stopping the group on a paved trail) You know, we appreciate the effort and all, but I don’t think we can just go… play over there, with all of… them.

Manager: (Recovered, but still seated) Whyever not?  There’s not sign saying that!  There’s no law!

Co-Worker 2: I think there might be.

Manager: Ridiculous!  Everyone’s always complaining how they miss their childhood when they played all the time, and here I am, literally throwing you two into play time, and you’re just standing there like a bunch of old people!

Hiking Able-Bodied Senior Citizen: Hey!

Manager: People who let themselves get old!

Co-Worker 2: I see what you’re saying, and that kind of play was fun when we were kids, but now, well….

Co-Worker 1: Now we just don’t wanna.

Co-Worker 2: Exactly.  Somewhere through the years, it just stopped being fun.

Co-Worker 1: And I hate to say it, but right now I’m exhausted just looking at them.

Manager: (Stands in a fury) What are you two, 30 going on 300?

Co-Worker 2: You’re actually not supposed to ask us our age –

Manager: OLD!  You let yourselves get old!  Well my late-middle-aged self refuses to, do you hear me?!  (Runs to an unoccupied sandbox, dives in, and uses a shovel to fill a bucket while weeping)

Co-Worker 1: You think the office’ll miss us if we hang out here a little while longer to keep an eye on things?

Co-Worker 2: I think we have a moral obligation to ensure our boss’s physical and mental well-being, and we’re only doing our duty in staying out here in this fresh air, green grass, shady trees – (Co-Workers 1’s and 2’s eyes begin closing) humming insects, sleepy breeze – ooh, look, there’s a nice comfy bench right over there, just waiting for us to take a nap on it!

            Co-Worker 1: (As they both trot over to the bench) Sweet.  My legs are killing me.