Thursday, September 6, 2018

Story 254: Why Is There a Soundtrack?


            The radiant sunset surrounded the couple with shades of red, purple, and pink as the two strolled through the cozy park, hand-in-hand.  The moment when he was going to pop the question was fast approaching: he knew it, she knew it, the dog walkers knew it.  The violins swelled in anticipation as he suddenly stopped, grabbing both her hands in his.
            “Beloved?” he opened.
            “Yes, my angel?” she replied; several stirring flutes got in on the action.
          “We have known each other for so long – ” the violins became more agitated – “I simply cannot face the rest of my life without you by my side – ” an expectant drumroll began, with cymbals winding up for the climax – “and what on Earth is that orchestra doing here?!”
          “Oh them,” she lightly laughed.  “They follow me on special occasions: they’re the soundtrack to my life.”  The cymbals finally crashed.  “Not yet, guys – maybe start again when we kiss to seal the deal?” she asked; the music abruptly cut off.  To her angel, she smiled: “You were saying?”
            “Ummmm….”

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            The two spies snuck through the darkened warehouse and spoke to each other in whispers.
            “I’ll take the left, you take the right,” Spy 1 said.
            “Why do I always have to take the right?” Spy 2 almost whined.
            “Because right now I’m on the left, right?”
            “What?”
            A menacing bass line began.
            “So, you go that way,” Spy 1 gestured with a gun, “and I’ll go this way.  Ri – OK?”
            “Wait a minute, what’s that noise?”
            A synthesizer ratcheted up the thrill factor.
            “It’s underscoring the danger of our actions, now c’mon!”  Spy 1 gestured with the gun again.
          “Not so fast,” Spy 2 said, head tilting to listen.  “I know those chords.  This is the Villain Theme playing right now.”
            “What are you talking about?”
            “That’s the music played every time the villain shows up.”
            “Which makes perfect sense because that’s the reason why we’re here!  To catch the villain!”
           “Yes… or….”  Spy 2 pointed a gun at Spy 1.  “Perhaps the True Villain has been beside me ALL ALONG.”
            <DUN-DUN-DUUUUUUUN!>
            Spy 1 pointed the gun at Spy 2.  “Now you’re just being stupid and tiresome.  <Gasp> Maybe this music’s playing because you’ve been the True Villain ALL ALONG!”
            “Nonsense – I’m not the villain.”
            “Ha!  Prove it!”
            “I’d know it if I was, wouldn’t I.”
            “You make a good point.”
            The True Villain jumped out from behind a pillar, accompanied by a crescendo.
         “Aha, you fools!”  The Villain laughed evilly.  “The music was signaling my approach, and now I have the drop on both of you!”
            “Blast,” Spy 1 said as the two raised their hands in surrender.  “We sure misread those cues.”
            “Yes, I must say they were deliberately confusing to the casual listener,” Spy 2 agreed.

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            In the haunted house, the reckless teenagers paused on the third floor to regroup; they spoke with flashlights shining up on their faces due to the requisite power outage during the obligatory thunderstorm.
            “I say we head to the basement and wait it out there,” Teen 1 said.
           “I say we head to the attic, solve the mystery, and set the angry ghost’s soul to rest,” Teen 2 said.
            “I say we head to the front door and walk out of it,” Teen 3 said.
            “Hold up a sec!” Teen 4 hysterically shouted.
            “What?  We were having a nice rational discussion up until now,” Teen 1 said.
         Teen 4 looked around in terror before screechily whispering: “Where’s our supporting music?!”
            The others pondered this.
            “You’re right, it’s been suspiciously not playing for ages,” Teen 2 said.
            “That means when it does play, it’ll be a doozy,” Teen 1 agreed.
           “I’m going to climb down this drainpipe here,” Teen 3 said, opening a window.  “You’re all welcome to join me whenever you’d like.”
            The other three froze in place.
            “Should we run for it?” Teen 4 asked.
            “Maybe if we never move ever again from this spot, the ghost’ll forget about us and leave us alone,” Teen 2 said.
            “Or we could – ” Teen 1 started but was cut off by jump-scare music, which was followed by the jump scare of the tangible ghost getting in their faces.
            With everyone screaming, the music was no longer necessary.
            From outside the house, Teen 3 jumped onto the ground from the drainpipe, ran to the car, got inside, and started it.  The horror music quietly began to swell.
            Teen 3 turned to face the music: “Don’t even think about it.”
            The music stopped as Teen 3 drove off into the night.

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            In an office, Manager approached Employee.
            “So,” Manager said, “we’ve got a huge project coming up, with lots of ways it can go wrong.”
            “All right,” Employee said, then pressed a button on a CD player; light-hearted music played through the speakers.
            “What are you doing?” Manager asked.
        “Scoring our new adventure,” Employee said.  “Judging by your statement, I trust that shenanigans will ensue?”
            “Not really – this is a very serious project for one of our top clients.  If it doesn’t go right, we could be – ” Manager leaned in slightly to whisper – “F-I-R-E-D.”
            “All right.”  Employee pressed a few different buttons; serious-sounding music then played.  “So this situation is dramatic, then.”
            “Well, yeah!  And I even feel a little uncomfortable taking it on, to tell you the truth; this is the client who is a bit – ” whispered again – “S-H-A-D-Y.”
            “Got ya.”  Employee hit several more buttons; hints of mystery and danger were signified by the presence of a bassoon.  “How’s this one?”
            “Perfect.”

Thursday, August 30, 2018

Story 253: Life-Size Miniature Golf Course


            The four tourists arrived at their destination.
            “Here we are, folks!” Tourist 1, their leader by unspoken agreement, announced as they stood at the main entrance.  “The world’s first, and currently only, Life-Size Miniature Golf Course!  Isn’t it a thing of beauty?”
            They surveyed the acres of windmills, fields configured as pinball machines, unnatural sand, unnatural lakes, and waterfalls – so many waterfalls.
            “Is it 18 holes like in a real golf course?” Tourist 2 asked.
            “Well yeah, mini-golf has 18 holes, too.”
            “Oh, right.”
            “Can we move the ball away from the wall a bit if we hit it too close?” Tourist 3 asked.
           “There aren’t any walls here, and there’re no stroke limits, either,” Tourist 1 said.  “Wherever the ball lands, you have to hit it from there no matter what.”
            “Aw man, that’ll take forever,” Tourist 3 pointed out.
            “We’re in the big leagues now, people; no more fooling around!”
             Tourist 4 chimed in: “If it’s ‘Life-Size,’ why is it still called ‘Miniature?’”
            “ALL RIGHT WHO WANTS TO GO FIRST?!”
            They picked up their neon-colored balls and adult-sized putters, along with the score card and a dinky pencil, and began their trek to Hole 1.  Ten minutes later, Tourist 2 swung by with a golf cart to carry all their stuff the rest of the way.
            Upon arrival, Tourist 4 lined up the shot and then stared at the club: “I dunno, I don’t think these things are going to hit the ball far enough to reach the hole.”
            “Just do your best,” Tourist 1 said.  The four amateurs already were sweating profusely in the summer sun, and it was getting gross.
            Tourist 4 drove the ball mightily, which then landed halfway to the ramp that eventually dropped off to the hole.
            “Yeah, this is gonna take forever,” Tourist 2 said, driving over to the Tiki Bar stationed at Hole 3.
            Hole 5 featured a windmill, but there was no tunnel through the bottom to drive the ball through: this was an actual working windmill, grain and all.
            Tourist 3 was having difficulties getting the ball out of it.
           “Did you find it yet?” Tourist 1 shouted up to the second floor; the other two players were settled on a dune having a picnic lunch.
            “I think so,” Tourist 3’s voice carried from inside.  “I think – nope, no, just another mouse.  Ah!  Here it is!”  [Whack!]  “Hit the wall again!  But I should have it out in another 15 strokes – 20, tops!”  [Whack!  Whack!  Whack!]
            A foursome approached their group. 
“Hi, you guys mind if we play through?” their unspoken-agreement leader asked.
“Not at all!” Tourist 1 said, stepping aside.  “I see you’re using woods and irons?”
“Oh yeah,” the leader said, teeing up the shot.  “This course is too big to use just putters; it’d take all day, and that's if you started early.  You do know most of this stuff is from the mini-golf course that closed down last year, right?  They merged with this course so the country club could stay open.”
“…Oh.”
Two hours later, they had moved on to Hole 6.
“Right,” Tourist 1 said, using the putter to put on the appearance of measuring the distance from the tee to the hole that was half a mile away.  “This is a tricky one, and we’re not even at the halfway point of the course yet.”
“Arrrrrggggghhhh….”  Tourist 2 slumped in the golf cart.
Tourist 1 peered into the distance: “We’ve got a dogleg around that apple orchard and then have to simultaneously avoid the sand trap, the water hazard, and the silverback gorilla that is taking up the rest of the fairway.  I see that the designers of this course are optimistic about our chances, though: the scorecard lists this hole as a Par 3.”
“Ha!”  Tourist 4 barked from up a tree.  “More like Par 30!”
Tourist 1 set the ball on the tee, calculated the angles, tested the wind sheer, and hit the ball into the water.
Tourist 2 drove over to the spot: “It’s floating!  You’ve gotta play it from here!”
“Rats,” Tourist 1 muttered.  “Now I’ll never avoid the gorilla.”
The gorilla’s speakers roared in agreement.
On Hole 13, Tourist 1 suddenly noticed that Tourists 3 and 4 had disappeared.
“Oh yeah, they went back to the clubhouse for ice cream about an hour ago,” Tourist 2 said while stretched out in the back of the golf cart.
“What?!  How could they?!  When could they?!”
“It was either while you were trying to get over that last mini-mountain or while you kept knocking the ball off the pinwheels – nope, scratch that, they left while you were going through the clown maze.  That one kind of freaked them out, plus the ball kept getting shot back to the tee so I think that might have been the last straw.”
“I see.”
           Finally arriving at Hole 18, Tourist 1 and Tourist 2 faced a double hole where the first actually was a tunnel that led 10 yards away to the final destination.
            “At last!”  Tourist 1 shrieked, parched of throat and burnt of skin.  “The end is in our grasp!”
            Tourist 2 settled down for another nap: “Um-hm.”
            In order to reach the tunnel, Tourist 1 did battle through thickets, prancing dolphins, another windmill (although painted brighter), Niagara Falls-style rapids, and random rough, reaching the double hole in just under 50 strokes.
            Tourist 1 lined up the shot carefully, tapped the ball, and watched in shock as it received an assist from the sloped ground to land directly into the final hole.
            “It’s done?  It’s done!  Victory, ahahahahaha!”
            Tourist 1 collapsed onto the ground, feebly waving the putter in triumph.
            Tourist 2 stirred briefly: “Hm – yaaaayyyy – snoooorrrreeee….”
            One of the course owners was observing from a distance.
            “Huh, no one’s ever finished the whole thing with just putters before.  Better not let them find out those are being replaced with actual golf clubs tomorrow.”