Story 612: Is There a Major Holiday in November I’m Forgetting?

 NOVEMBER 5 

(In a café, Parent 1, Parent 2, and Parent 3 sit at a small round table, hastily downing gingerbread lattes)

Parent 1: I’m so proud of myself this year: I finished all my Christmas shopping today, and it’s not even anywhere near December yet!

Parent 2: Ha!  I finished mine before Halloween!

Parent 3: Amateurs: I finished my Christmas and Hanukkah shopping the day after New Year’s.

Parent 1 and Parent 2: Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhh….

Parent 1: So, that’s it?  We have almost two whole months with no extra running around to stores and tracking down sales online, trying to find the last item in stock and freaking out that everything’s late?

Parent 2: I think so!

Parent 3: I don’t know – I feel like we’re missing something.

Parent 1: Something?

Parent 2: Missing?

Parent 3: You know, something major; something between Halloween and Christmas/Hanukkah/Kwanzaa.  Can’t put my finger on it, though.

Parent 1, Parent 2, and Parent 3: Hmmmmm….. (All three take a ponderous sip) 

NOVEMBER 12 

Parent 4: (In a kitchen making cookies while talking to a cell phone lying on the counter; every singer’s Christmas/Winter album plays on the radio in the background) And yes, children are a blessing, don’t get me wrong, but when you reach a certain number of them under the age of 18 within the near-immediate family, you just get to the point where you say, “Everyone’s getting gift cards, I don’t care.”

Parent 5: (Peeking in from the front door and holding up a string of colored lights) You really want all of these covering the house this year?

Parent 4: (Pauses in rolling dough to look at Parent 5) I said ALL OF THEM!

Parent 5: OK, yeesh.  (Goes back outside)

Parent 4: (Back to the phone) As I was saying: “You all can buy your own gifts at this point in my life.”

Parent 6: (Also in a kitchen making cookies while talking to a cell phone lying on the counter) Same.

Parent 4: (Looks to the oven after a timer DINGS!) Oooh, great timing, I just finished the snickerdoodle batter.  (Opens the oven door and swaps cookie sheets)

Parent 6: (Stirring batter endlessly in a large bowl) Yeah, I’m working on shortbread cookies right now.

Parent 4: Nice.

Parent 6: It’s funny, when you’re doing something mindless, you start thinking of the oddest things.

Parent 4: (Scraping cookies onto a cooling rack) Like what?

Parent 6: Well… you ever get the feeling you should be working on something else?

Parent 4: Whaddya mean?  We already multitask 24/7.  (Transfers clothes from a washing machine to a dryer and then starts another batch of cookies)

Parent 6: I know, but I have this nagging thought that I’m overlooking something important, and it has to do with food.

Parent 4: Well, once I finish these I’ve gotta start dinner, and then work on the gift baskets for the school’s Santa Bingo, not to mention when am I gonna start wrapping the kids’ presents, so anything else that may or may not be important is just going to have to wait.

Parent 6: (Stirs even slower while staring out into space) Something about a bird….

Parent 4: If it’s a partridge in a pear tree, count me out – call me Scrooge, but if I never hear that song again it’ll be too soon.

Parent 6: I like that one.

Parent 4: So did I, once upon a time.  You any closer to figuring out what it is you forgot yet?

Parent 6: (Attention drifts to a wall calendar with a picture of a giant cornucopia on the top half) It’ll come to me…. 

NOVEMBER 19 

(At a mall, Parent 7 carefully navigates through the crowds, carrying lots of large bags and surrounded by fake snow, decorated fake trees, ornaments, several menorahs, and “Jingle Bells” on a never-ending loop.  On seeing a “Photos With Santa!” section, with a long line leading to Santa Claus on a throne with helper Elves managing the crowd and a faux reindeer coldly looking on, Parent 7 stops to stare at the controlled chaos for a few moments, blocking out the jolly carol and the tormented cries of unjolly toddlers, brow furrowed in sudden confusion)

Parent 7: (Muttering to self) Wait a minute – isn’t there something else that’s supposed to happen before all this?

Santa Claus: Next in line, please!  Only 36 shopping days until Christmas, ho-ho-ho!

Parent 7: (Still muttering, now looking at the floor) Before Christmas…. Something else before Christmas…. What could it be…?  (Looks up in realization) Of course!  How could I forget Pearl Harbor Day?!  So ungrateful of me.  (Thinks for a moment) Grateful…?  (Thinks for a moment, then shakes head and dives back into the fray) 

NOVEMBER 26 

(In an office, Parent 8 sits at a desk that is smothered in winter wonderland decorations and types an e-mail)

Parent 8: (Reading aloud softly while typing) “ – and if I – have to go in there – one more time – you’re gonna get it – ”  (Stops typing) What am I doing?  This isn’t going to my kids.  (Holds down the backspace key)

Manager: (Approaches the desk) Hey, you busy?

Parent 8: (Swings away from the computer to face Manager) Always, but so are you.

Manager: Heh-heh, yeah.  So, I was reviewing everybody’s time sheets and saw you didn’t put in for the holiday tomorrow yet.

Parent 8: (Slow blinks at Manager) “Holiday”?

Manager: Yeah, you still gotta put it into the system like it’s a requested day off, except you select “Holiday” instead of “PTO”, so I’d appreciate it if you did it in the next five minutes so I can approve it before the end of the day, OK?

Parent 8: (Slow blinks again) “Tomorrow”?

Manager: Yes.  Tomorrow.  (Blank stare from Parent 8) November 27.  (Blank stare) Fourth Thursday of November.  (Blank stare) Thanksgiving?!

Parent 8: …Ohhhhh!  (Slowly nods in realization)

Manager: (Slowly nods along) Yeeessss!

Parent 8: Is that still a thing?

Manager: …Yes, it’s a federal holiday so the company actually pays you not to work.  One thing to be thankful for, right, heh-heh-heh?

Parent 8: Mm.  And it’s still every year?

Manager: Put in the request now, please – bye.  (Leaves)

Parent 8: (Turns back to the computer and opens up the Human Resources portal to enter the request, then pauses to look at a “Countdown to Christmas!” calendar that reads “29” for days remaining) Thanksgiving, eh?  Amazed that one’s still hanging in there.

Story 603: Choose Whodunit

            (In a small village, the six sole occupants gather in the mini-square)

Leader: All right everyone, here’s the deal: you all had a hard day’s work out in the fields and will be going to your wee but cozy shacks for a well-earned good night’s sleep, but one of you – is actually – a – “murderer”!

(Gasps all around)

Villager 1: Impossible!

Villager 2: Not one of us, we all know each other!

Villager 3: (Raises a hand; to Leader) Is it you?

Leader: No it isn’t me, I’m the one running the ga – never mind: whoever it is knows who it is, OK?!

Villager 3: No, but since I’m clearly outvoted here….

Leader: Good-good; now, tonight: one of you – will – be – “murdered”!

(Gasps all around again)

Villager 4: What if we “murder” the “murderer” first?

Leader: It doesn’t work like that – it happens while you’re asleep.

Villager 4: What if we don’t sleep, then?

Leader: You have to sleep, it’s in the rules – I mean, you had a hard day’s work out in the fields so you’re all sleeping through the night, OK?!

Villager 4: Except for one of us who’ll be horribly “murdering” another one of us, that is.

Leader: Yes, well, that goes without saying.  However, there is a chance… to be saved.

Villager 5: Oh thank goodness; I thought all hope was lost.

Leader: For one of you – is – a – “healer”.

Villager 1: Impossible!

Leader: I’m sorry, what?

Villager 1: How can any of us be a “healer” in this village if we’re working out in the fields all day long?  There’d be no free time to learn herbology or surgery!

Leader: …Well, this is a very talented person, what can I tell you; now, the “healer” can choose to save a fellow villager or may choose to save themselves, either way possibly saving the selected “victim”.

Villager 1: OK, so what’s the method of “murder”, then?

Leader: DEATH!  Mwahahaha!

Villager 2: You’re having way too much fun with this.

Leader: Sorry.

Villager 1: So, is it poison or stabbing?

Leader: What difference does it make?!

Villager 1: A world of difference: if I’m the “victim” and also the “healer”, then if it’s poison I can just take an antidote, but if it’s stabbing or some other traumatic wound then how am I supposed to perform lifesaving surgery on myself?

Leader: It’s magic, OK?!  It’s all magic!

Villager 1: Then maybe say the person’s a “witch” or a “sorcerer” rather than a “healer” –

Leader: It doesn’t matter, the person’s just a “healer” who instantly “heals”, all right?!

Villager 3: (Raises a hand; to Leader) If we “heal” ourselves but we were never the “victim”, does that create a paradox and we implode instead?

Leader: No!  Nothing happens, you just wake up in the morning as usual!  Why is everyone making this more complicated than it is?!

Villager 3: Just checking, yeesh.

Leader: The rules – I mean, the situation is exactly as I told you, stop overthinking everything, now go to sleep so one of you can be “offed” in the night, understand?!

Villager 4: Who can sleep at this point?!

Villager 5: And what kind of village did we all choose to live in?!

Leader: For the love of – EVERYONE GO TO SLEEP, NOW!

(Villagers 1-5 go to each of their huts, grumbling)

Villager 5: (Turns to Leader while standing in the doorway) Well, you’re certainly not getting a portion of this year’s harvest after all this.  (Slams the door on the way in)

Leader: …What?

(Later that night)

Leader: IT – IS – TIME!

Villagers 1-5: (In their huts) Ooooh!

Leader: Now, this next part as quietly as possible.  “Murderer”: WAKE UP!

Villager 5: (Whispering) But we’re all already awake!

Villager 4: Ssh!

(Villager 2 emerges quietly from the hut, wearing a wicked smile)

Leader: OK, “Murderer”: CHOOSE YOUR VICTIM!  (Villager 2 starts creepily tiptoeing toward Villager 1’s hut) No-no, just point – it’s all magic, remember.  (Villager 2 creepily points to Villager 1’s hut) OK, “Murderer”: NOW, GO BACK TO SLEEP!  (Villager 2 collapses onto the ground) What the – go back to your hut and then go back to sleep!  (Villager 2 stands up and returns to the hut) Now, “Healer”: WAKE UP!  (Villager 1 emerges quietly from the hut) OK, “Healer”: CHOOSE WHO IS TO BE SAVED!  (Villager 1 points a wand at self and mouths “Alakazam!”) …Fine.  OK, “Healer”: NOW, GOT BACK TO SLEEP!  (Villager 1 dashes back into the hut) Wish I could sleep right now.

(The next morning)

Leader: OK, everyone: it was a long, hard night’s sleep, but now you’re all awake and gathered.  (Silence) I said, you’re all awake and gathered!  (Villagers 1-5 run out of their huts and gather in the mini-square)  And even though you all should have been out like an electric light that hasn’t been invented yet, in the literal dead of night, one of you tried to “off” your neighbor!

Villager 5: Oh no!  In our little village?!  Nowhere is safe!

Leader: BUT: the “healer” was able to save the “victim”, so everyone here is still alive… FOR NOW!  Mwahahaha – !

Villager 2: Seriously, take it down a notch.

Leader: Sorry.  So: let the accusations begin!  Who do each of you think is… THE “MURDERER”?!

(Villager 1 points to Villager 2, Villagers 2, 4, and 5 point to Villager 3, and Villager 3 points to Leader)

Leader: (To Villager 3) I already told you that it can’t be me!

Villager 3: Ah, that’s what you want us to think!

Leader: I’m not eligible to be the “murderer” since I oversee who’s doing what, so you have to pick someone else!

Villager 3: Oh, all right.  (Suddenly notices Villagers 2, 4, and 5’s pointing fingers) Hey, wait a minute, you all think it’s me?!  What for?!

Villager 2: I’m not buying the Village Idiot routine for a second.

Villager 3: But I am the Village Idiot for real!

Villager 4: A likely story!  Your disguise is ingenious!

Villager 5: Yeah, that’s what you want us to think, ha!

Villager 3: (Sputters) I – you – this – I have no words.

Leader: (To Villager 3) So, who do you accuse now?

Villager 3: Myself, apparently: the gaslighting campaign has succeeded.

Leader: Well, it’s a majority then, but not unanimous.  (To Villager 1) So, why are you pointing elsewhere?

Villager 2: (Suddenly notices Villager 1’s pointing finger and gasps in horror) How could you even suspect it was me?!  I AM YOUR SPOUSE!

Villager 1: Exactly.

Leader: (To Villager 1) Sure you don’t want to change your mind in light of public opinion?

Villager 1: (Still staring accusingly at Villager 2) Oh no, my mind’s staying right here.

Villager 2: (To Villager 1) I’ll remember this at dinner tonight.

Leader: All right, then!  The majority in this case is… not correct, and the “murderer” is still at large to strike once more!

Villager 5: (As Villagers 1, 2, 4, and 5 lower their pointing fingers) Ooh, I can’t take the suspense!

Villager 1: (Glaring at Villager 2) I can.

Villager 2: (Glaring back) Why you little –

Villager 3: (Oblivious to the other two) I can’t take the pubic shaming.

Leader: All right!  After a hard day’s work out in the fields –

Villager 4: Who can work at a time like this?!  Isn’t there an attempted “murder” we should be investigating?!

Villager 5: Yeah, I for one don’t want to be the next contestant on a re-enactment of And Then There Were None!

Leader: (Stares blankly at Villager 4 and Villager 5 for a few moments) …After another hard day’s work out in the fields, you all return to your wee but cozy shacks for a well-earned good night’s sleep.

Villager 5: (As Villagers 1-5 return to their huts) HA!

Villager 4: I’m barring the door and staying up all night with my scythe at the ready!

Villager 1: (While looking pointedly at Villager 2) Good idea.

Villager 2: [Grinds teeth at Villager 1]

Leader: OK, NIGHTY-NIGHT!

(Later that night)

Leader: IT – IS – TIME!  Now, this next part as quietly as possible.  “Murderer”: WAKE UP!  (Villager 2 and Villager 3 both emerge from their huts) Unbelievable.

Villager 2: (Staring at Villager 3) Huh?

Villager 3: What, didn’t you all vote for me to be It?

Leader: THAT’S NOT HOW THIS WORKS!

Villager 3: Yeesh, why is everyone always mad at me lately?  I didn’t even attempt a “murder” on anyone yet.

(Villagers 1, 4, and 5 emerge from their huts)

Villager 4: Did you get `em?!  Are we saved?!

Leader: (Sinks down to the ground, cradling head in hands and moaning) That’s not how this works….

Villager 2: (Pointing to Villager 3) This one got confused and ruined the whole thing!

Villager 4: (Gasps in horror; to Villager 2) So it was you, all along?!

Villager 1: I KNEW IT!

Villager 2: (To Villager 1) Calm down; you would’ve done the exact same thing in my position.

Villager 1: I would never!

Villager 2: Oh really?  Then how is it you chose to “heal” yourself rather than your own beloved life companion, hm?

Villager 1: Because I figured you were the “murderer” and that you’d targeted me!  And how’d you know I “healed” myself?!

Villager 2: Because you were still alive the next morning!

Villager 1: …Oh yeah, right.

Villager 2: Besides, it would’ve been an easy process of elimination anyway.  (Points to Villager 3) This one has no idea what’s going on – (Points to Villagers 4 and 5) and those two are too immersed in the experience to convincingly cover up a secret role if they had one.

Villager 4: Rude.

Villager 5: Yeah, “Murderer”!

Villager 2: I didn’t even “off” anyone!

Villager 5: Not for lack of trying!

Villager 1: I’ll say.

Villager 3: (Raises a hand) Are we going back to sleep for another round, then?

Leader: (Suddenly stands) No!  No, the game is over, you all ruined it!  The cards I gave you earlier clearly showed what your roles were, the rules were very simple, and my narration was clear and concise – it takes a special talent to spectacularly derail such a basic scenario, but you all managed to somehow, congratulations!

Villager 1 and Villager 2: AHEM!

Leader: Sorry: you were the perfect secret “Murderer” and “Healer”, Mom and Dad.

Villager 2: I should think so.

Villager 1: Same here, even though I really should keep my eye on you two from now on.

Story 496: Taking a Toll

(In the middle of parkway traffic)

Friend 1: (Crawling along with the rest of the cars and singing along with the wrong lyrics on the radio) <You thrill up my clean-ses/Go thrill me agaaaaain!/Moo-moo-moo-moo-moo-mooooo-mooooo – > (Is interrupted by the cell phone ringing; turns off the radio and answers the call on speaker) Yellll-oh?

Friend 2: (Calling from a living room, surrounded by relatives and appetizers) Hey, just checking – did you make it to your parents’ house all right for Father’s Day?

Friend 1: (Brightly) I did not, so I’m heading there as we speak!

Friend 2: What?  Why didn’t you go there last night like you said you were?  If you’re on the parkway now, you’re going to get there in time to turn around and go home!

Friend 1: Well… life interfered and determined that I leave today instead of yesterday, so I yielded to the whims of fate.

Friend 2: You forgot you were supposed to leave last night instead of this afternoon.

Friend 1: …Yes.  I assume you did not.  Forget, I mean.

Friend 2: Are you kidding?  Whenever there’s a Sunday holiday I always get to my parents’ house by Thursday the latest.  Does a number on my days off from work, but well worth it.

Friend 1: (As the road begins to curve) Ah, hold that thought: toll booth coming up, and I never start out in the right lane since they always literally throw in a curve!

Friend 2: So, you finally break down and get Quick Ticket yet?

Friend 1: Why? This is one of the few times of the year I’m on the parkway; why should yet another company have my credit card on file, especially for something I rarely use?  Who do they think they are, The Gym?!

Friend 2: I think toll rates were raised again so you’d better have enough change, then.

Friend 1: Nonsense: I’m not the only old-school driver out here who’ll have larger bills needing breaking – gotta support the few toll attendants left, am-I-right?

Friend 2: It’s just that the amounts are a bit different now –

Friend 1: (Pulls up to a cash toll booth) Noted!  (To Toll Attendant 1) Greetings, fellow worker; this should justify your position to those out-of-touch corporate honchos for another day.  (Holds out a $20 bill)

Toll Attendant 1: (Softly sighs) That’s the 80^th 20 I’ve gotten today – do you happen to have exact change, or at least the coins, please?

Friend 1: Huh?  (Toll Attendant 1 points to a sign listing the toll amount) Three dollars AND 15 CENTS?!

Toll Attendant 1: I curse the day that amount was assigned to this plaza.

Friend 1: So do I!  (Rummages through wallet) How in the blazes did they decide on 15 CENTS?!

Toll Attendant 1: I suppose I should be thankful that the total ends in a five instead of any number other than zero – but I’m not.

Friend 1: I’ll say.  (Horns from the cars in line start blaring as Friend 1 hands over two $1 bills, several quarters, and a dime)

Toll Attendant 1: (Counts through the spread) Still need a nickel, please.               

Friend 1: Oh, sorry, thought it worked out with the quarters.  (Counts out five pennies and starts handing them over) Good thing you all still take pennies – whoops!  (Drops three pennies onto the road in mid-transfer)

Toll Attendant 1: Oy.

Friend 1: (Unbuckles seatbelt, opens the car door, and starts picking up the coins; as the car horns blare louder and longer, Friend 1 hands over the pennies and turns to face the honking cars) BABIES!

Toll Attendant 1: (Enters change into the register) Thank you – have a nice day, what’s left of it.

Friend 1: (Re-enters the car and rebuckles the belt) You as well; I don’t know how you stand it.

Toll Attendant 1: I don’t either.

(Friend 1 advances 30 feet before having to slow down to 4 mph again)

Friend 2: (Having moved on to the den, still a voice from the phone on the passenger seat) So, that sounded exciting.

Friend 1: (Jumps slightly in seat) Jumpin’ jacks, I forgot you were there.

Friend 2: Yeah, it’s very entertaining from this end.  Still convinced not to get Quick Ticket?

Friend 1: Yes – this was a one-time incident never to be repeated, either to myself or to anyone else in the vicinity.

Friend 2: Don’t you usually have at least two tolls and also one on the exit?

Friend 1: Maybeeee….

Friend 2: Plus the ones on the way back?

Friend 1: Just one toll on the way back.  And the parkway entrance.

Friend 2: Want me to stay on the line for moral support?

Friend 1: Please.  (At toll #2, Friend 1 inches forward to a stop and then holds out a $20 bill to Toll Attendant 2) Greetings, fellow –

Toll Attendant 2: Toll changed to $2.72.

Friend 1: (Mouth drops open) What happened to nice round numbers?

Toll Attendant 2: That was the north toll plaza.  You’re in the central toll plaza now.

Friend 1: I get it…. (Rummages through wallet) I seem to no longer have pennies.  Or quarters.  Or dimes.  Or nickels.  Or –

Toll Attendant 2: You have $3?

Friend 1: (Rummages through wallet, then looks up) No.

Toll Attendant 2: (As horns from the cars in line start blaring) $5?

Friend 1: (Rummages some more) I have $10.

Toll Attendant 2: Sold.  (Friend 1 hands over the bill and Toll Attendant 2 hands back the difference) Congratulations – you received the last of my change.  The next car is gonna hate you.

Friend 1: Don’t you get your register replenished or emptied out or turned over or something?

Toll Attendant 2: Hey, we’re lucky we get a paycheck.

Friend 1: Well, thanks anyway; have a great day!  (Slowly pulls away while giving a thumbs-up to the honking driver behind)

Toll Attendant 2: You too – I certainly won’t.

(Friend 1 begins crawling on the parkway again)

Friend 2: (Now sitting in an outdoor patio) Next toll booth’ll probably be exact change, since it’s an exit and those refuse to be staffed just to spite everyone.

Friend 1: (Gripping the steering wheel) I know….

(Forty-five minutes later, Friend 1 exits the parkway and approaches the toll booths)

Friend 1: I’m telling you, Dad owes me for the ordeal I’m undertaking on his behalf!

Friend 2: Don’t you owe him literally your entire existence?

Friend 1: That goes without saying.  (Peers up ahead) Well, whaddya know!  There’s actually an attendant here.

Friend 2: Really? That’s odd; usually those booths are just 50-or-75¢.

Friend 1: Who cares: someone’s getting my $20 today.  (Pulls up to the booth and holds out a $20 bill) Greet –

Toll Attendant 3: Toll’s now one dollar and a ha’penny.

Friend 1: …Excuse me a moment.  (Turns back to the passenger seat and picks up the phone) I’m hanging up now so your eardrums are spared the screams of my anguish.

Friend 2: Sure – when you’re done there, wish your dad “Happy Father’s Day” for me, yeah?

Friend 1: Likewise – at least some of us’ll be having a good day.

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 262: Winning the High School Raffle

            (Scene: A high school cafeteria repurposed into an amateur auction hall – the round tables are grouped facing a podium, and gift baskets are everywhere)

            PTO President: And now, for the 50/50.  (Holds a bucket out to an unbiased child on loan for the occasion) The winner of this drawing also will receive a free Chess Club T-shirt, yay!  (One audience member claps) Yeah.  And the winner is – (Takes ticket from the unbiased child, who disappears into the crowd) zero… zero… two… five….

            Parent 1: Hurry up!  The tension is killing me!

            PTO President: Oh, are these numbers matching your ticket?

            Parent 1: Heck no, I never do 50/50s, now come on!

            PTO President: Uh… eight-four!

            (Massive groans are heard)

          Winner: (Holding the ticket high into the air) YES!  YES-YES-YES-YES-YESSSSS!!!!  (Runs to the stage, still with the ticket aloft)

            PTO President: Um, hello, can I just check – (Cranes head to check the ticket number)

            Winner: Sure-go-ahead-I-won!  (Tosses ticket to the PTO President, who struggles to snatch it out of the air) Now where’s the T-shirt?

            PTO President: (Grabs the ticket and checks the number) Uhhhh, here you go.  (Reaches into a bag, pulls out the shirt, and hands it to the Winner)

            Winner: Sweeeeet!  (Pulls on the shirt over a sweater)

            PTO President: (Reviewing notes) Oh, and your winnings in the 50/50 are –

            Winner: (Admiring shirt) Don’t care – give it to the school or flush it down the toilet, your choice.

            PTO President: Uh, that’s very… nice of –

            Winner: Got my shirt and I’m out, ahahahaha!!! (Runs out of the cafeteria; after leaving the door, can be heard faintly) Losers.

            Parent 2: Does she even have any kids who go to this school?

            PTO President: (Struggling with notes) Now then, time for our silent auction.  Our first basket is a “Girls’ Night Out” Theme –

            Parent 3: (Stands) Actually, that was updated to “Night Out” because everyone was tired of the spa packages and store coupons, so we just filled the basket with candy and booze.  (Sits)

            PTO President: Ohhh… kaaaayyy…. And the winner for “Night Out” is – (Searches the crowd) Where’s the unbiased child to pull the numbers?

            Parent 4: They left – it was time for beddy-bye.

            PTO President: Fine, I’m pulling the numbers then.  (Pulls out a ticket) And the winner is: zero… zero….

            Parent 5: That’s me! 

            PTO President: That’s everybody.

            Parent 5: Proceed.

            PTO President: Seven… I mean one…

            Parent 6: Aw, man, there goes that!

            PTO President: Nine… two… seven.

            Parent 5: That’s me!

            PTO President: That’s – oh whoops, sorry, that was a one again.

            Parent 5: That’s me!

            PTO President: Seriously?

            Parent 5: Oh yes.  (Walks to the stage carrying a bag full of tickets; hands one to the PTO President) Here you go!

            PTO President: (Checks it) Oh wow, it’s a match.  Basket’s yours, then.  (Hands over the basket)

            Parent 5: (Raises it aloft) Party at my house, fellas!

            Parents: Woot!  Woot!

            PTO President: Please sit down.  (Parent 5 returns to seat) Now, the next basket is donated items signed by our local football celebrity, whose team is in the playoffs this year, isn’t that great?  (Silence) OK then, let me see who won this…. (Checks corresponding bucket) There’re no tickets in here?!

            Parent 3: Yeah, nobody wanted random stuff signed by him: he was a brat when he went here, and he’s an even bigger brat now.

            PTO President: But he donated all this stuff!

            Parent 3: All this used stuff.

            PTO President: Oh.  Ew.  All right, next.  (Uses foot to push the previous basket off the stage) This one has an all-inclusive trip to the North Pole with passes to meet Santa Claus and – this is a gag basket, isn’t it.

            Parent 7: (Laughing hysterically) Man, people fall for that every time!

            PTO President: Wait a minute, is there anything actually real in this one?

            Parent 7: The basket?

            PTO President: Forget it.  (Foot-pushes that basket off the stage) We’re going to move on to the artwork raffle.  (More groans in the audience) C’mon people, these were made by your children!

            Parent 4: Apparently we don’t like our children.

            PTO President: Monsters.  (Pulls out a framed watercolor of a landscape) My goodness, that’s awful – ly full of potential!  Starting bid is $1,000.00

            Parent 6: This ain’t a New York auction house, you know.

            PTO President: Clearly.  All right, $1.00?  (Silence for half a minute, then Parent 8 slowly raises a hand) Sold!  (Parent 8 slowly comes to the stage to take the painting)  Is this is your kid’s?

            Parent 8: Yes, yes: you win, world, I will no longer force my child to be a brilliantly starving artist, are you happy?!

            PTO President: I think the world and your child are, yes.  Now let’s go back to the baskets –

            Parent 3: Wait a minute, what about the art?

            PTO President: The rest won’t move, and we’ve got another 25 baskets to get through in less than an hour.

            Parent 4: But what about the sculpture of the battling dragons sitting right there?  Now that I may actually bid money on.

            PTO President: Really?

            Parent 4: …No, never mind; I’m too cheap.

            Parent 5: Can I just take all the baskets home?  The odds of you picking my tickets for each are ridiculously high.

            PTO President: No you cannot, and we are going to be here all night if you people don’t stop interrupting the proceedings!

            Parent 7: Can we all just write a check donating money to the school or something and skip the rest?

            PTO President: No!  This is supposed to be fun and team-building and you get cool stuff!  Now I am going to keep calling tickets for baskets of random knick-knacks and you will all stay here until the end to listen and complain that you never win anything, all right?!

            Parent 8: If it makes you happy.

            PTO President: It doesn’t!  I’m not even supposed to be PTO President this year but no one else wanted to do it!  This is strictly volunteer and I resent every minute of it!

            Parent 8: Even if it’s for your kid?

            PTO President: My kid graduated last year!  Why won’t you people let me goooooo????? (Sits on the stage to cradle a basket and weep)

            Parent 4: (To Parent 6) Still the best PTO President we’ve had in ages.