Story 573: Unwittingly Sucked Into The Game

            (In a living room, Spouse 1 leans forward while sitting on the couch, intently watching a football game on the TV)

Spouse 1: (Flings arms up in the air in frustration just as Spouse 2 enters the room putting on a coat) NOOOOO!!!!  Why didn’t they stop him before he made the touchdown?!  What are they even doing out there?!  Why don’t they listen to me??!!

Spouse 2: (While putting on gloves) If it upsets you so much, why do you keep watching it?

Spouse 1: (Without looking away from the TV) Ah, you just don’t understand!

Spouse 2: I understand that it’s an obscene amount of money, time, and mental energy spent on what basically boils down to a bunch of full-grown adults chasing around a ball.

Spouse 1: But – strategy – skill – there’s more to it than that!  (Suddenly stands in horror) He missed it!  He can make a 50-yard field goal and whiffs a basic punt?!  ARRRGGGGHHHH!!!!!  (Clutches head in despair and collapses back onto the couch)

Spouse 2: (Sighs quietly) You realize you’re giving yourself a heart attack over something that doesn’t even directly affect you.

Spouse 1: (Speaks through hands still clutching head) I’m invested in the human drama of it all.

Spouse 2: Emotionally or financially?

Spouse 1: (Sits back up to watch the TV again) Both: the pool at work’s been getting intense lately.

Spouse 2: And the less I know about that, the better.

Spouse 1: Even without that, it’s, you know….

Spouse 2: What?

Spouse 1: The Thrill of The Game!  (They both watch as a play is made) INTERCEPTION-ARE-YOU-KIDDING-ME????!!!!!  (Grabs a pillow to stifle a scream)

Spouse 2: (Narrows eyes at the TV) Hm.  I can sort of understand how that’s frustrating to watch – that other guy’s teammates were no help at all.

Spouse 1: (Drops the pillow and stares at Spouse 2 in wonder) Yes!  Thank you!  That team has no strategy whatsoever – I’m amazed they even managed to score this season!

Spouse 2: And this is the team you’re rooting for?

Spouse 1: Yeah, well – habit.  (They watch another play; Spouse 1 gestures at the TV) No kidding, of course they’re going to do something reckless in the fourth down, they’ve got less than a minute left on the clock and still have nine yards to go!  (Whistle blows) Aaaaaaand another timeout – like that’s gonna do you any good, ya rookies!

Spouse 2: (Slowly sits on the couch next to Spouse 1, staring at the TV) So, if they actually run the nine yards in time, what does that do for them?

Spouse 1: At this rate they should either kick a field goal or go right for the end zone to make a touchdown and actually get in the lead, but let’s not hope for miracles here.  (A play, then another whistle) TWO FEET?!  HE MADE IT TWO FEET AND GOT DESTROYED?!  (Falls back onto the cushions and sobs)

Spouse 2: Yeah, that guy from the other team totally tripped him; that wasn’t very sporting.

Spouse 1: (Sits up again) What?

Spouse 2: (Points to the slow motion instant replay) See?  The other guy stuck out his foot and tripped him; very foul.

Spouse 1: (Fist pumps the air) Yes, a foul!  Ten-yard penalty, woo-hoo!

Spouse 2: That’s one way to get there.

Spouse 1: (After a few more plays) So, now they’re going to go for the three-point field goal since that’s the best shot they have right now even with the extra yardage literally handed to them.

Spouse 2: Ooh, if they make that will they win then?

Spouse 1: Oh no; we still got three quarters to go.  (They lean forward to watch the field goal kick; Spouse 1 stands in glee) Yes, it’s in!  They got it!

Spouse 2: Wow, it looked like it was veering way off at first, but made it in at the last second; good for that guy!  (As Spouse 1 sits down again) Now what?

Spouse 1: Now our team kicks off to the other team that’ll try to score all the way on the other side of the field – (Both stand as the play starts) He’s going for the touchdown right away, I don’t believe it!

Spouse 2: This is the other team though, right?  Should we be cheering or booing?

Spouse 1: I’m just in awe at the speed – nobody’s even close to catching up!  (The touchdown is made) No seconds to spare!  What a play!

Spouse 2: (As they both sit down again) Well, that was exciting.  What do they do now?

Spouse 1: Now?  Now it’s just getting interesting….

ONE HOUR LATER

(Whistle blows for another foul; Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 both groan in mental anguish while surrounded on the couch by bags of potato chips and pretzels, with several empty soda cans on a nearby table)

Spouse 2: (Coat and gloves were discarded long ago) What’d he do that for?!

Spouse 1: I know!  They never listen to me!

(The other team gets another touchdown)

 Spouse 1 and Spouse 2: (Simultaneously fling their arms up in the air and collapse back onto the couch) ARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!!!

Spouse 2: If they attempt a two-point conversion, I am going to flip.  My.  Lid!

Spouse 1: (Checks papers) And I’ll be out 100 bucks!

(They both lean in toward the TV as the next play is being set up; Spouse 2’s cell phone suddenly rings)

Spouse 2: (Answers the phone without looking away from the TV) Not now, we’re in overtime!  (Ends the call and tosses the phone over a shoulder to land behind the couch)

(In a restaurant, a small gathering at a round table looks at Host who is on the phone; Host hesitates a moment before putting away the phone and forcing a smile at the others)

Host: Best not to wait any longer.

Others: Ah.  (They all dig into their cooling meals)

(In the living room)

Spouse 2: Another timeout?!  There’re two minutes left on the clock and they’re actually tied!

Spouse 1: (Speaks around biting on the TV remote) I know – the suspense is killing me!

Spouse 2: So what happens if the clock runs out and they’re still tied?

Spouse 1: Ah!  (Drops the remote in horror) Then both teams are out!  But – more importantly – our team is out!

Spouse 2: Well we can’t have that, now can we?!

Spouse 1: Absolutely not!

(During the next play, one of the players catches the ball and runs to the end zone; Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 stand in support)

Spouse 1 and Spouse 2: GO!  GO!  GO!  GO! –

Announcer: Touchdown!  And the game is finally over!

Spouse 1 and Spouse 2: YAAAAAAAAYYYYYYY!!!!  (They jump up and down while hugging each other, cheering and weeping with joy; after a few minutes, they settle back down on the couch in exhaustion)

Spouse 2: (Almost out of breath) Wow.  I never realized how… exciting just watching sports could be!

Spouse 1: It’s never too late to become a fan!

Spouse 2: Especially now that they just won!

Spouse 1: (Picks up the papers again and starts entering notes with a pencil, wearing a wicked smile) Yes, now that we all just won.

Spouse 2: Hm?

Spouse 1: (Drops the papers and pencil down the side of a couch cushion) Never mind.

Spouse 2: So, now that they won, do they get to bask in the glory of their victory and ridiculous fortunes?

Spouse 1: For a little while, but not for long `cause now they get to advance to the playoffs next week, woohoo!

Spouse 2: Wait, this game wasn’t it?

Spouse 1: Wasn’t what?

Spouse 2: The game.  The last one.

Spouse 1: Oh, not at all: got the playoffs for a few weeks next, and whichever two teams survive those get to go to the Super Bowl.

Spouse 2: And then?

Spouse 1: And then that’s it.

Spouse 2: Oh thank goodness.

Spouse 1: For the season; then in the fall the new season starts and we get to do this all over again!  (Spouse 2 stares at Spouse 1) Isn’t it great?!

Spouse 2: I’m exhausted just thinking about the unending futility of all this – I’m going out, even though the people I was supposed to meet earlier probably never want to see me again.  (Grabs coat and gloves and leaves)

Spouse 1: (Shrugs and uses the remote to raise the volume on the TV) I should’ve mentioned the post-game analysis: that’s where armchair quarterbacking’s down to a fine art.

Story 404: A Midsummer Night’s Autumn

 In the 95°F late August weather, The Employee clocks out of work at 5:00 p.m. and transforms into The Commuter, soon to become The Shopper – there is always some kind of work to be done.

The bus’s air conditioning does battle with the extreme heat and humidity during the ride through the city; the passengers melt off at each stop, the driver nearly joining them every time.

The sun has been setting a minute earlier each day; at night, the heat remains.

The Commuter evaporates into The Shopper while exiting the bus and floats into a department store; the sweat immediately turns to icicles and The Shopper condenses as the overpowered air conditioning blasts the entire building.  The Shopper’s internal thermodynamics are thrown in a state of array and run off screaming.

The Shopper is likewise befuddled: “Is this Halloween?”

The entire store is decorated in various shades of orange, brown, and black; fake falling leaves are everywhere; possibly-fake cobwebs are strung amongst displays.

The Shopper plunges through a pile of football season paraphernalia to grab a shopping cart, and the trek through the store begins.

One item needed is a replacement beach umbrella, which is tucked away in Summer Clearance: “But I’m going there this weekend!  The lifeguards are still on duty!  Why is all the beach stuff shoved out of the season?!”

At the end of an aisle is a few sunscreen bottles; as The Shopper reaches for one, a motion sensor is tripped and a cackling witch flashes its LED eyes at passers-by.  The Shopper jumps only slightly: “Oh, dear.”

Ghosts and goblins line the walls and shelves, and the constant breeze stirs up the haphazardly strewn leaves and strategically strewn hay bales.

At the store’s café, The Shopper stands on line to buy a lemonade.  The frazzled barista finishes the three-course-meal order of the previous customer and turns to The Shopper: “Hello, would you like to try our pumpkin spice coffee, our pumpkin spice scone, and/or our pumpkin spice pumpkin?”

“…Not today, thank you.”

Sipping the lemonade, The Shopper wanders into the holiday section of the store, which has been converted into a haunted house.

“Beware of midnight, bwahahahaha!!!!” an employee dressed as a werewolf at the house’s entrance greets The Shopper.

The latter checks a watch: “But it’s only 7:00.”

The werewolf’s snarling face stares blankly at The Shopper, who continues on to the candy aisle haunted by products not really needed for another two months: “Ooh, sea salt caramels, yoink!”  Into the cart they go.

The ceiling speakers burst into spooky music at random intervals to announce discounts for the fall; as The Shopper enters one aisle covered in school supplies, the banners strung all over the place and the speakers both scream: “Back to School Sale!”

“Aaaaaahhhhhh!!!!!”

“You’re telling me,” a child says to The Shopper while being forcefully guided into the aisle by their parent.

Shopping completed, The Shopper transforms once more into The Commuter as the journey home begins.  The sky darkens as night approaches; the temperature is now 88°F; and the sweat resumes its previous activity as the wait for a new bus commences.

The Commuter looks forward to one last day at the beach, filled with sand, surf, and people just everywhere, and a book to read in front of the crashing waves after making the inconvenient trip all the way out there.  While boarding the steaming bus whose air conditioning had surrendered in defeat, The Commuter sees a ginormous sign stretched over the street ahead:

COME SEE OUR THANKSGIVING DAY PARADE NOVEMBER 25!!!