Story 407: How to Serve a Criticism Sandwich

 (In an office)

Manager: (Enters with Employee and gestures at a chair) Have a seat.  (Sits behind the desk as Employee sits at the other side) So, for your annual performance review, Corporate instructed us to try something different.  (Reaches into a drawer and places a plate with a large sandwich on it in front of Employee) Here.

Employee: …They’re finally giving us free lunches?

Manager: Ahahahahaha – !  No, that’s a Criticism Sandwich.  It’s your performance review.

Employee: I don’t understand – am I supposed to eat this?

Manager: Course not; just read what it says.

Employee: (Gingerly takes the sandwich and reads the top slice of bread) “Always clocks in and out on time.”

Manager: You don’t know what a relief that is, to me and to Payroll.  Much appreciated.

Employee: Thanks.

Manager: (Nods at the sandwich) Go on.

Employee: Oh.  (Takes off the top slice and looks at the meat of the sandwich) “Needs to improve time management – tends to procrastinate on projects.”  (Winces)

Manager: Yeah, don’t appreciate that.

Employee: (Lifts off a slice of meat and continues) “Needs to improve on working in groups.”  (Looks up at Manager) I’m the only other one in our department!

Manager: Exactly.

Employee: (Takes off another slice) “Tends to allow personal life to interfere with work.”  (Looks up at Manager) It was one time!

Manager: You say that every time.  No one on the floor cares when your household appliances break down – we all manage to deal with those without involving the whole world.

Employee: I’m sorry, but it’s very disruptive when it happens!

Manager: And so are you.  Continue.

Employee: (Reaches the bottom slice of bread) “Brightens everyone’s day here.” Gee, thanks!

Manager: Yeah, you’re a real ray of sunshine – no one’s getting raises this year.

Employee: Oh.  Can I eat the sandwich then?

Manager: I wouldn’t.

(At a writing group)

Writer 1: (Reading from latest draft of life’s work to the circle) “ – and as the cannon fire rained down upon the battalion, each and every one of those soldiers knew there would be at least one sentence in a military history monograph dedicated to that very last thought.”  (Looks up at the rest of the group, extremely emotional) “And there was.”  (Takes in the silent stares) …The End.

(Group Leader starts the others in polite clapping)

Group Leader: All right everyone, head on over to the sideboard and craft your Criticism Sandwiches for this latest piece!  (The members slowly trudge over to that table where supplies are spread out) Five minutes this time!  (Mutters) Let’s not be here all night.

Writer 1: What?

Group Leader: What?

(Five minutes later)

Group Leader: All righty!  Who wants to serve their sandwich first?

(The usual delay when no one wants to volunteer; Writer 2 then stands, quickly walks across the circle, and abruptly holds out the sandwich to Writer 1)

Writer 2: Here.  Nothing personal.  (Sits back down)

Writer 1: Of course it’s personal!  I wrote it!

Group Leader: Just accept the sandwich!  (Smiles very broadly) We’re all here to learn.  (Everyone else nods)

Writer 1: (Gingerly looks at the top slice of bread and reads) “Tackling this subject matter was very brave of you” – oh, no!

Group Leader: (Cracks a whip in the air) Keep going!

Writer 2: (Lifts off the bread and reads the top slice of meat) “Too much melodrama” – (Lifts a slice) “Constantly shifting POV gave me mental whiplash” – (Lifts a slice) “For a supposedly nonfiction work, this had an awful lot of creative writing on what you assume real-life people were thinking” – where, exactly, hm?!

Writer 2: That last bit you read today was a prime example.

Group Leader: (Cracks whip again) Continue!

Writer 1: (Lifts a slice) “Could’ve used more graphs and charts” – ?!  I already have over 300!

Writer 2: Now, that there’s a writing technique called “verbal irony,” AKA “sarcasm.”  (Writer 1’s jaw drops)  I see though that it wasn’t conveyed too well in text – that’s one of my flaws that you all are helping me work on here.  (The other group members start another round of polite clapping)

Writer 1: (Grinds teeth loudly at Writer 2)

Group Leader: (Looking at watch) Yes-yes-lovely – have you reached the bottom of the sandwich yet?

Writer 1: I will now.  (Removes a few more slices of meat and reads the bottom slice of bread) “Overall, pretty funny.”  (Looks up at Writer 2) It’s a serious historical tome!

Writer 2: Whoops.

Group Leader: (To Writer 1) OK!  So what’s your takeaway from all this?

Writer 1: (Shakes the sandwich at Group Leader) Apparently, if I go by this, I need to rewrite the whole thing!

Group Leader: But, you also see that you were both brave and funny in your first of many, many drafts!

Writer 1: It’s not supposed to be funny!

Writer 2: Too bad – got a few chuckles outta me.

Group Leader: All right, who’s next to serve their sandwich?

Writer 1: What if I don’t want any more tonight?

Group Leader: Well, you’ll be cheating yourself out of some desperately needed feedback, but we all have the option to disregard any criticism here.

Writer 3: Aw shucks, I’d made mine a triple-decker!

 (In a café)

Partner 1: (After the couple has picked up their coffees and sat at a table) So, I’ve been thinking: we’ve been together for a few years, and I really like you a lot –

Partner 2: Oh good, I’d hoped you might.

Partner 1: – and I want to be with you for a long time; probably not forever, but a long time nonetheless.

Partner 2: Yeah: forever, ugh!  Unspecific “long time” is much better.

Partner 1: Soooo, I got you something.  (Reaches into a bag)

Partner 2: If it’s a ring, it undercuts your previous statement.

Partner 1: Oh no, nothing like that.  (Places a sandwich on a napkin in front of Partner 2)

Partner 2: Uhhh, thanks, but we’re going out to diner later and I don’t want to fill up.

Partner 1: It’s not for eating, it’s –

Barista: (Passing by while cleaning tables) Can’t have outside food here.

Partner 1: Oh no, it’s just a Criticism Sandwich.

Partner 2: (Gasps and widens eyes) It starts!

Barista: Ah.  Good luck with that.  (Moves along)

Partner 2: (Staring alternately at Partner 1 and the sandwich) Wha – I – how – I thought everything was going so well!

Partner 1: It is, but there’re always opportunities for improvement.  (Nods at the sandwich) Go ahead.

Partner 2: (Gulps, then reads the top slice of bread) “I love you with all of my heart.”  Aw, hon!

Partner 1: (Wipes away a small tear) Keep going, sweetie.

Partner 2: (Lifts off the bread and reads the top slice of vegetable) “You really need to clean up after yourself more.”  Is this about the laundry I left on the floor the other day?

Partner 1: It’s about the laundry you leave on the floor every day, yes – keep going.

Partner 2: (Lifts up the vegetable and reads a slice of meat) “You tend to ‘forget’ when it’s your turn to make dinner” – but “forget” is in quotes?

Partner 1: That was intentional – continue.

Partner 2: (Lifts up slice of meat) “That shade of hair dye doesn’t flatter you at all.”  (Looks up with a cocked eyebrow) Seriously?

Partner 1: All right, that one’s petty – skip to the next.

Partner 2: (Reaches the bottom slice of bread) “You are such a giving person and I’m lucky to have you in my life” – awwwwwwwww, honnnnnnnn!!!!!

Partner 1: (More tears threaten to spill) And I mean every word of that whole thing!

(They hold hands lovingly across the table)

Partner 2: You know, I’m now going to have to serve you a ginormous Criticism Sandwich of my own –

Partner 1: BRING IT ON, BABY!

Story 406: If You Could Choose Any Superpower…

 Friend 1: …WHAT WOULD IT BE?

Friend 2: HUH?!

Friend 1: I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU DIDN’T HEAR ME THE FIRST TIME – YOU’RE SITTING RIGHT NEXT TO ME!

Friend 2: WELL, WE’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF AN EARSPLITTING CONCERT AND YOUR QUESTION IS CLEARLY OFF-TOPIC, SO IT’S JUST TAKING ME A LITTLE WHILE TO CATCH UP!

Friend 1: FINE, I’LL WAIT TILL INTERMISSION!

INTERMISSION

Friend 1: SO, IF YOU COULD –

Friend 2: You don’t have to bellow now; the noise level’s reduced slightly.

Friend 1: Sorry, my ears are still ringing a bit.

Friend 2: You know, that may actually be a sign of hearing lo-

Friend 1: SO, what I scream-asked earlier was: If you could choose any superpower, what would it be?

Friend 2: …Whyyyyyy?????

Friend 1: I was thinking I wanted to enhance our concert-going experience since we’re in the next-to-last row on the ceiling, and I can’t decide which would be best: super-vision?  Super-hearing?  Invisibility?

Friend 2: That last one would certainly help if everyone else had it: we finally could see the stage at least.

Friend 1: Yeah, but then they’d get up to all sorts of mischief without any accountability whatsoever.

Friend 2: Oh yeah.  Ew.  Never mind.

Friend 1: Teleportation?  Front row seats.

Friend 2: Heh, that one’d also shave time off my daily commute.  We can keep this power after the concert, right?

Friend 1: Oh yes, it’s yours for life, but only the one.

Friend 2: (Thinks for a few moments) I’d probably choose telekinesis.

Friend 1: Really?  Not telepathy?

Friend 2: Gosh no – do you really want to know what everyone’s thinking, all the time?  It’d be no end of revulsion.

Friend 1: Good point.  So telekinesis then?

Friend 2: Oh yeah: zero-effort opening doors, changing TV channels, getting stuff out of the fridge, moving weirdos outta my way, the works.

Friend 1: Oh.  (Thinks on this) Oooohhhh….

Friend 2: Yeah, I figured that’d appeal to your innate laziness.

Friend 1: Hey!  I’m not lazy!

Friend 2: Course you are.  And with telekinesis, you’d barely have to move a muscle ever again, if you really wanted.  A sloth’s paradise.

Friend 1: I like sloths.  They take the time to appreciate life.

(The band re-emerges on the stage and the audience stands and screams their approval)

 Friend 2: (Also standing) `K-THEY’RE-BACK-DON’T-SPEAK-FOR-ANOTHER-TWO-HOURS-WOOOOOO!!!!!!

Friend 1: (Stands slowly, stares inwardly, and whispers to self) And no one would ever mess with me again.

Friend 2: WHAT?

Friend 1: I SAID “WOOOOOO!!!!!!”

 THE NEXT DAY

(Friend 1 wakes up, sits on the edge of the bed, and stares thoughtfully at a pair of slippers on the floor)

Friend 1: (Whispers to them) Move.  (The slippers wobble, then fly onto Friend 1’s feet) Whoa.  (Looks around) Must still be asleep.

(After getting dressed and going to the kitchen, Friend 1 stares at the refrigerator before holding a hand out to the handle without touching it.  The door opens suddenly so the handle goes into Friend 1’s hand)

Friend 1: (Staring at the open refrigerator with wide eyes) Just hungry?

(At the supermarket, Friend 1 pushes a shopping cart up and down the aisles; surreptitiously looking around to make sure no one is nearby, Friend 1 lets go of the cart but keeps hands hovering over the handle so that it still moves forward, then grips the handle again tightly)

Friend 1: (Whispers) Momentum.

(In Produce, Friend 1 stands in front of the apple section and unobtrusively floats several of them in the air to check for bruises; as a fellow shopper comes nearer, Friend 1 hurriedly grabs a few apples and shoves them into a bag before rushing the cart away)

Friend 1: (To Shopper) What, I didn’t see that, you’re imagining things!

Shopper: (Without looking up from the dragon fruit) Don’t talk to me.

(On the way home, Friend 1 giddily and literally drives hands-free)

Friend 1: Look, Ma!  No hands!  (Sees a traffic light turn from yellow to red) Oh shoot.  (Grabs the wheel and slams the brake)

(On a walk through town, Friend 1 hover-bounces a basketball along the sidewalk until seeing a construction site where an excavator is being used to create a huge hole)

Friend 1: (Drops the ball and addresses the construction workers) Never fear, good people!  Your deliverance is at hand!  (Raises arms to lift a lot more dirt out of the ground and dump it on the growing pile near the excavator.  The construction workers all stare in shock at the dirt, then at Friend 1) No need to thank me!

Supervisor: We won’t – the hole’s way too big now, you freak!

Friend 1: No need for name-calling, honest citizen!  I’ll just put some of it back – (Raises arms and some of the dirt pile simultaneously)

Construction Workers: (Hold their arms out in front of them) Whoa-whoa-stop!

Supervisor: You’re making more of a mess, and you’ll put us all out of a job!  Just – beat it!

Friend 1: (Lowers arms and dirt, then sighs) The inevitable public backlash.  I should retire from my superheroic endeavors while my good name’s still intact.  (Skips away while hover-bouncing the basketball again)

Supervisor: (To colleague) Who was that clown anyway?  (Is answered with a shrug, and the entire event is forgotten immediately by all present)

(Back home, Friend 1 hovers a finger over the cell phone to select and call Friend 2’s number from the contact list)

Friend 2: Hel-lo, ears still vibrating from last night?

Friend 1: Yes – listen, I tried it today and decided the whole thing just isn’t working out.

Friend 2: You neglected to mention the topic of conversation.

Friend 1: The telekinesis thing!  I’ve done it, and it’s just not worth it.

Friend 2: You’ve still lost me in the woods of your brain.

Friend 1: I’ve done it all – using it for minor conveniences, trying to save the world, the whole shebang: the people have already turned against me, and now I can’t risk you, my lifelong friend, eventually transforming into my ultimate nemesis I’ll have to regrettably destroy, I just can’t!

Friend 2: What are you talking – ?

Friend 1: No superpower is worth losing our souls or our unbreakable friendship over, so don’t try to misguidedly convince me otherwise!

Friend 2: OK.  I won’t.  I’m going back to dinner with my parents now.

Friend 1: Oh, sorry to interrupt, tell `em I said “Hi!”

Friend 2: Will do – bye.  (Ends the call)

Friend 1: (Sets down the phone, then walks over to the living room window and stares heroically out it) The eternal quandary: in order to save the world, I must give up the power I love most.  It’s a noble sacrifice I’ll gladly suffer in silence for.  (Suddenly looks down at the ground near the apartment building and sees an oblivious car about to clip an oblivious jogger; Friend 1 holds out a hand and delays the jogger long enough to miss the car; both continue on their oblivious ways.  Friend 1 grimaces slightly, eyes darting around in guilt) Maybe just that once.

Story 405: Observations From the Cat Left at Home

My family left me today.

My family actually leave me every day, but this is one of those times I could tell they won’t be back by night.  Or the next day.  Or the – I have no idea what comes after that.

It’s kind of peaceful here now, tranquil, just the way I like it; I can finally do what I want for a change, and not be woken up 15 times mid-exhausting-sleep for an unwanted cuddle.

Still: the lack of diversion is a bit of a drag.  How many times can I kill the scores of fake prey they leave scattered around the place, I ask you?  At least when they summon the flying point of light, it’s somewhat of a challenge for my impressive tracking skills.

The smallest member of the family also keeps things interesting: certainly no telling what that one’s going to do next.

The most pressing issue at the moment, though, is the food situation.  I am embarrassingly dependent upon the giants to supply my daily fuel, so every time they get it into their huge heads to take off to parts unknown, I’m left behind with an uncertain future: if I eat everything in the bowl and no one is there to refill it, is the next step starvation?  Constant conservation is the only way to deal with this, and I have learned to live with the everlasting anxiety.

What’s that?  The front door unlocking?  Quick, off the bed before they catch you there with a “No, no, no!” – gracefully sprint down the hall – perhaps the family came back early –

Oh no.

It’s the other one.

This giant smells like Alpha (I refuse on principle to call her “Mommy” despite her addressing herself as such) so I know she’s from the same litter, and she has encroached on this territory multiple times before.

It’s too late to hide under a bed or in a closet – the intruder has spotted me.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!!”

Ugh.

“How are you?!”  I am scooped up into amateur arms – clearly, this one has not held one of my kind properly, ever.  “Have you been a good little furball?”

Ew.  And of course I’ve been what you arrogantly designate “good,” you imbecile – I don’t have to answer to you!

I’m carried as if I were a helpless kitten into the kitchen; only my disciplined forbearance in this treatment prevents a scene.  “Have you been watching the house while everyone’s gone?  Making sure no one sneaks in, heh-heh-heh?”

My patrols are completed regularly, thank you very much – and isn’t “watching the house” technically your job?!

I finally am released onto the floor, and the giant takes her sweet time getting my food in order.  Never mind that I have been patiently waiting eons past the scheduled delivery time.  Sure, there are plenty of the crunchy pebbles available all day, but refer to my earlier treatise on food conservation; plus, I’ve suffered enough – I want the good stuff.

Blast, I forgot about this part: lately I’d been feeling a little… off, if you will, and after a torture session where Alpha kidnapped me out of the house and allowed some stranger who smelled mainly of DOG to mishandle me terribly, now at every meal I am placed in a bodylock and a tube is shoved into my mouth with some horrific liquid forced down my throat.  I have no choice but to swallow the disgusting concoction under heavy protest and no small amount of humiliation.  After an unfathomable amount of time performing this new, horrendous ritual, I have been feeling a slight improvement from my prior state: I fail to see the connection.

Now the intruder giant upends a bottle, sticks the tube into the bottom for a few seconds, then hugs me in a weak semblance of the hold Alpha uses.  I stretch my patience to the utmost limits in keep still for this one to get her act together, but when she starts trying (emphasis on that last word) to get the tube into my mouth, the uncertainty and inexperience in her conduct push me past my breaking point, instinct takes over, and away I flail: I regret nothing.

“There, there – ” a condescending pat on the head after the damage is done – “such a good kitty.”

If me not rightfully biting your nose after such unprofessional behavior constitutes as being “good,” then I am the best who ever lived – your pathetic affirmation is unnecessary and undesired.

After another indignity in my face being wiped with a damp cloth – I can groom myself, you know, and much better than this fumbling approximation – the goods are finally delivered and the chicken-like soft mass appears in my dish.

“What an appetite!  You must be hungry!”

Well of course I’m – !  When one is not given vital sustenance until ages after their body is accustomed to receiving it, then one, logically, is hungry.  You can stop talking now.

The intruder disappears somewhere while I embrace the meal – my waste depository better be emptied by the time I get there, is all I’m saying – and my subsequent bath is rudely interrupted because she’s decided she’s been here long enough and the supposed burden of my care can now wait until tomorrow to resume.

A few more ingratiating rubs to my ears, chin, back, mmmmmm....

“Bye-bye, baby!  Watch the house!”

For the love of –

The door is slammed and locked.

The lone outside light does nothing for the increasingly darkening interior.  Fine by me: the giants blast way too much fake sun in here anyway.  It’s a relief that my eyes don’t have to adjust to the incessant glare for the nonce.

Time for a brief nap, then evening patrol, a little snack, nap, overnight patrol, do battle with that cricket in the corner again, a little snack, dawn patrol, nap, and –

The door unlocks and bursts open: “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii, baaaaaaabyyyyyy!!!!!!  Did you watch the house?!”

Sigh.  My life is an unending trial.

When my family finally bestir themselves to return home I’m certainly going to give them an earful, right before we curl up on the couch together so they can watch the glowing noisy screen and we all fall into a blissful slumber.

Oh yes, they will pay for this dearly.

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!!!

Story 403: Always Read the Details Before Getting on the Ride

 (At an amusement pier at night)

Friend 1: (Slowly spins around in a circle, taking in all the rides, games of chance, and food/drink stands blazing with bright lights and surrounded by one giant noise of joy) Wow, they sure did change things around here since I was a kid – that 360° swinging longboat there used to be a ball pit.

Friend 2: (Slurping a giant lemonade) Heh-heh, gross ball pit – good times.  (Suddenly points) Ooh, there’s that new ride I heard about, the one that’s all the rage with the kids nowadays.

Friend 1: Does that mean I don’t meet the age requirement, then?

Friend 2: (Leads them to a sign at the entrance to the ride) See, there’s not even a height requirement: as long as you have no heart condition, back condition, vertigo condition, fear condition –

Friend 1: (Heads to the end of the line that stretches back to the main boardwalk) Blah, blah, blah – since I know you really want to go on this thing, I’ll endure the hour-long wait for the two-minute thrill.

Friend 2: (Tosses the empty lemonade cup into a garbage can and follows Friend 1) Yesss!!!  Thanks – we’re gonna have a blast!  Although I think I read it only lasts for a minute and a half.

Friend 1: Typical.  (They begin their wait obliviously next to a giant sign with the headline: “WARNING: READ THE NOTICE BELOW FULLY BEFORE BOARDING THIS RIDE!”)

 ONE HOUR LATER

(Having followed the line steadily across the pier and up metal staircases zigzagging into the air akin to the approach to a waterpark slide, Friends 1 and 2 are led by a Ride Attendant to a solo car waiting on the tracks)

Friend 2: Oh boy, I’m getting the anticipation shakes, I haven’t had those in years!

Friend 1: I hate those – they make me feel like I lack self-control.

Ride Attendant: (Gestures for them to enter the car and buckles them in the seat) Arms and legs must remain in the car at all times – (Lowers and secures shoulder restraints over them) hold onto the side handles to steer when needed – (Points to the handles on each side of the car, next to their heads, then points to a large button on the car’s ledge in front of them) deploy the parachute when you reach the end of the track and this button stops flashing – (Points to the beach next to the pier) aim for the target on the giant cushion on the sand when you’re ready to land – (Locks the car’s door) have fun.  (Walks over to the ride’s control panel several feet away)

Friends 1 and 2: (Stare after Ride Attendant, then at each other) PARACHUTE?!

(Ride Attendant hits a button on the panel with one hand and gives them a thumbs-up with the other; the car accelerates to 100 mph in two seconds while Friends 1 and 2 scream)

Ride Attendant: (Dispassionately watches the car shoot away down the track, then turns to watch the next car approach as line-waiters hop in glee) There’s irony in all this somewhere, but I’m too tired with life to go looking for it.

(Friends 1 and 2 continue to scream as the car flies them over, upside down, and around the tracks)

Friend 2: I never knew we actually had to work on this ride!!!

Friend 1: I can’t even follow what you’re saying; nothing else exists for me right now!!!

Friend 2: (Sees the button beginning to flash, then squints ahead in the darkness) The track!  The track is ending!

Friend 1: (Starts to reach for the button) So we hit the button now?!

Friend 2: I think it’s after we’re off the track!

Friend 1: I don’t know, is it after we’re in the air or before we’re in the air?!

Friend 2: I don’t know anything anymore!

(The button flashes faster and then turns a solid light; Friends 1 and 2 slam their hands down on it as the car flies off the track and the parachute deploys.  They each grab a side handle and glide through the night air over the beach)

Friend 1: (Peers over at the sea in the distance) I think I see a cruise ship way out there – want to try landing this thing on the top deck for the midnight buffet?

Friend 2: I’m trying not to throw up right now.

Friend 1: (As they continue to glide over the quiet beach with a cool breeze gently flowing over them) You know, if my body wasn’t about to shake itself apart, this would almost be peaceful.

(They and a seagull nearly crash into each other)

Friends 1 and 2: Aaaaaahhhhhhh!!!!

Seagull: Hey, watch it!  Tourists.  (Flies away in a huff)

Friend 1: I didn’t hear that if you didn’t.

Friend 2: (Points to the beach with a non-steering hand) Look!  There’s the target!

Friend 1: Great, `cause I think we’re starting to lose both altitude and momentum.

(Each starts pulling on their respective handle)

Friend 2: Wait, I think you pull yours that way and I pull mine this way –

Friend 1: No, that’s taking us too far over; I should pull this way and you should pull that way – (The car continues to descend, not quite over where the target cushion is located)

Friend 2: We’re zigzagging all over the place!  What happens if we don’t land on the cushion?!

Friend 1: Hope it’s fast?

Friend 2: You are no help at all!  Just keep pull – whoa!

(A figure on the ground had raised a ginormous magnet that captures the car and steadily guides it to the target cushion; the car lands with a gentle thump)

Ride Lander: (Tosses away the magnet and walks over to the car) Are you both conscious?

Friend 1: No, my brain flew off into the stratosphere somewhere back there, but thanks for asking.

Friend 2: We’re fine, thank you.

Friend 1: (To Friend 2) Define “fine”!

Ride Lander: (Unlocks the car, lifts up the shoulder restraints, unbuckles the seat belt, and begins stowing the parachute back into its compartment while Friends 1 and 2 fall out of the car; a crew waits nearby to load it onto a large trailer with other ride cars to drive them back to the pier) Report to the First Aid station if there are any injuries; your purchase of the ride tickets constitute as liability waivers; follow the lighted path to return to the pier; enjoy the rest of your night.  (Lifts the ginormous magnet to tractor beam the next car in for a landing as screams fill the air)

(Friends 1 and 2 shakily walk on the path back to the pier)

Friend 1: Just when you thought all the ideas for thrill rides had been used up, some sadistic monster conjures up a new one.

Friend 2: You’re telling me – I used to think that slingshot roller coaster was the ultimate, but I’m constantly proven wrong.

Friend 1: Yeah.  We only got to do that one ride tonight and I’m done, for everything.

Friend 2: Same here.  (They walk in silence for a few moments) Wanna get some ice cream?

Friend 1: YES.

Story 402: Replacement Pianist

 (Backstage, 20 minutes before showtime)

Singer: (To Stage Manager as the latter rushes over) Hi, yeah, have you heard from my partner yet?  They’re usually here before I am, and the conspicuous absence is making me feel nervous for the first time in my professional life.  I don’t like it much.

Stage Manager: We actually just got word they’re stuck in traffic with horrendous roadwork and can’t get here until… (Checks watch) tomorrow, so, we called in our house pianist who’ll be playing for you tonight instead, yay!

Pianist: (Appears suddenly) `Sup.

Singer: Ohhhh, hello, um, I’m not sure this is gonna work – we’ve never played together before.

Pianist: No prob: just give me the notes, I’ll bang `em out.  (Yawns)

Singer: Yeah, that’s great; the thing is, my partner and I have a whole routine for the show and we continually play off each other, know what I mean?

Pianist: Sure-sure, if you give me the lines I’ll say whatever you want.

Singer: That’s not – it’s a whole chemistry thing we’ve built up over years of performing together –

Pianist: Guess the audience’ll have to settle for competent instrumentalization instead; just don’t ad lib on me, m’kay?

Singer: Practically the whole show’s an ad lib!  I also interact with the audience, and it can go in any direction!  The show is a living, breathing thing!

Pianist: Wow.  No wonder they’re charging a hundred bucks a ticket here: this all sounds very involved.

Singer: A hundred – ?!

Stage Manager: (To Singer) Look, unless your partner can video in playing the keyboard while crawling along the freeway, this is the best we can do without cancelling the show last minute.

Singer: (Whips out a cell phone) That is an excellent idea – I know there’s a spare keyboard in the car trunk, technology works wonders, we can do this!  (Calls Partner)

Partner: (Listens to the proposed show format while sitting five lanes deep in non-moving traffic) Are you kidding me?!

Singer: (Disconnects the call and turns to the other two) I’m ready when you are.

Stage Manager: Great!  (Runs away to cue everyone)

Pianist: So, this show got an intermission?

Singer: Intermissions ruin my momentum.

Pianist: Then we may have a problem about 45 minutes in.

(Showtime)

Stage Manager: (On stage, addressing Audience) …And now, without further ado, let’s give a big round of applause to tonight’s star performer!

(Audience applauds as Singer enters, beaming and waving; Pianist heads straight for the piano and begins scanning the pages of music and a set list there)

Singer: (Arrives at the microphone and a small table where there are notes and a glass of water) Hello, all!  I already love you.

Audience: Wooooo!!!!

Singer: Now, let’s begin with one of my favorites.  (Whispers to Pianist) Number 3 on the list.

Pianist: (Whispers to Singer) You sure you wanna open with that one?  (Singer glares at Pianist, who takes out the corresponding sheet music and begins playing)

Singer: (To Audience) You know, when I first began my stage career, it was at a local theater just like this.

Audience: Wooooo!!!!

Pianist: How long you want me to keep playing the intro?

Singer: I’ll signal you – (To Audience) I was in high school, and –

Pianist: A nod, a wave, a scream, what?

Singer: …I’ll say “Go.”

Pianist: (Shrugs) Your show.

Singer: (To Audience) I auditioned for the summer musical and I had never sung in front of an audience before that wasn’t a shower nozzle and bar of soap –

Pianist: Any idea how long this is gonna go on, ballpark?  My fingers are getting bored.

Singer: …Go.

(They perform several songs in a row; Singer skips over most of the pre-planned patter)

Singer: This next song is one I’ll always treasure, since it was in the show that was my Broadway debut.

Audience: Wooooo!!!!

Pianist: Funny story: I actually saw you in that.  You’ve gotten better.

Singer: (Smiling through gritted teeth) You’re a trip!

(They get halfway through the song)

Pianist: (Stops playing) Hold on – those aren’t the lyrics for that line.

Singer: (Laughing) Oh yes, audiences are used to a little artistic license on the classics, aren’t you all?  (Audience applauds)

Pianist: I don’t think the original songwriter’d recognize that license – you might be in for a copyright infringement lawsuit if word gets out.  The Dramatists Guild’d have a field day, and rightfully so.

Singer: (Smiling strainedly) Let’s take it from the top, shall we?

Pianist: Argh, I’ve gotta play this one all over again?!  (Starts the song over with more insistent depressing of the keys)

(Finale)

Singer: (After finishing on a majestic note to thunderous applause) Thank you!  You’ve been a wonderful audience!  (They keep cheering) OK, should we do one more?

Audience: Wooooo!!!!

Pianist: No.

Singer: Number 35!

(They perform three more songs)

Singer: Thank you, I love you, good night!

Pianist: Ahem!

Singer: And let’s give a hand to tonight’s pianist who is not my regular accompanist!  (Applauds Pianist)

Audience: Wooooo!!!!

Pianist: You all cheer at anything.

(Backstage)

Stage Manager: That was great!  And demand was so high for this show that we want you to do another one here tomorrow night!  Your manager said you were available.

Singer: Did they now.  Well, my partner should be out of traffic by then, so I’m sure the magic tonight won’t be repeated.  (To Pianist) It’s been real.

Pianist: Yeah, I’ve had worse.

Singer: I haven’t.  (Starts to leave)

Pianist: Hey, one more thing?

Singer: (Turns back sharply) What?!

Pianist: Can I have your autograph?

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 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 399: Extreme Facial

 In a spa’s waiting room, the Receptionist looked up as the Customer entered with a blast of outside oven air; the welcoming smile was maintained as the former realized the latter was glistening.

“Hello,” the Receptionist said while trying to breathe only through the mouth, “you have an appointment?”

“Yeah,” the Customer said while patting various body parts with a suddenly-produced towel.  “Last name’s -----; I’d made a 3:00 appointment for a facial, not knowing at the time that today would be Summer with a capital ‘S.’”

The Receptionist navigated through the computer: “Oh yes, here you are.  There’re few forms to fill out – would you like to… freshen up first?”

“Would I ever!  It’s 105° Celsius outside, and as you’ve undoubtedly noticed, I’m a bit drippy.”

“Heh-heh, you mean it’s actually 105°… Fahrenheit?”

“You’d think so, wouldn’t you.”

“Bathroom’s down the hall.”

After the Customer washed up/dried off and completed the questionnaire, the Aesthetician unobtrusively appeared to take the forms and lead the way to the treatment room. There was dim lighting, a narrow bed piled up with comfy blankets, and soothing wind chime music playing softly.

“Aaaaaaahhhh….” the Customer sighed, “this is the mood setting I forgot to anticipate in my rush to get here.”

“Hm?”  The Aesthetician was distracted in the routine of preparing for the session.  “Oh, yes, completely relax and let your cares fade away for the next hour.  Now please strip off your top and put this wrap on.”  Said wrap was pointed out on the bed.

The Customer stared at it.  “Oh.  Right.  Also forgot about the near-nudity required at these things.”

The Aesthetician left the room for a few minutes to give the Customer privacy and time to change, and also to review the skin issues selected on the forms: “Oh my: we have our work cut out for us today.”

Knocking when re-entering the room, the Aesthetician saw the Customer lying on the bed under the blankets, eyes closed, slightly snoring: “Ahem!”

The Customer blinked rapidly: “Oh hey, what’s up?”

The Aesthetician moved behind the bed and placed a towel around the Customer’s hair: “So, I’m going to start with some exfoliators: you indicated on the forms you have issues with acne, eczema, rosacea, dry skin, and oily skin?”

“Yeah, it’s a big ol’ mess in there.”

“Right – here we go.”

The Aesthetician rubbed various products onto the Customer’s face that gently removed a mini-layer of epidermis while the latter increasingly relaxed.

“This is great….”

“Uh-huh.”  The Aesthetician pulled down a face shield and swung a bright light over the Customer’s head: “And now, we begin The Extraction.”

The Customer’s eyes flew wide open: “Huh?”

The Aesthetician produced a mini-jackhammer and began drilling away at all the pesky acne pustules that covered the Customer’s face.  After five minutes, the Aesthetician turned off the jackhammer and swapped it out for an electric prod: “And now, time for us to teach those ingrown hairs who’s boss.”

“Wait a sec – ” ZAP!  ZAP-ZAP-ZAP!

“Ooh,” the Aesthetician muttered while peering closer, “we’ve got a stubborn one on your right cheek.”

“Oh, that’s been there for ages; it’s an ongoing battle.”

“Let’s settle this once and for all, shall we?”  ZAAAAAAAP!!!!

When the electricity stopped, the Customer wearily asked, “Is that my face that’s smoking?”

“Not at all – just need to let our friend here cool off a minute so as not to overheat.  Aaaaand here we go!”  ZAP-ZAP-ZAP –

“You know, I think I’ll start wearing a moustache – ”

“Nonsense: no one with any sense of current Western fashion trends wears moustaches without some kind of complementary beard anymore; it just looks incomplete.  Now, let us resume removing the inflammation.”  Jackhammer again.

Sometime later, the Aesthetician set that tool aside and whipped out a sander: “And now, this should eradicate the rest of the flesh that’s the source of most of your facial discomfort.”

“Wait – ” scrape – “I’m confused – ” scrape – “are you an aesthetician – ” scrape-scrape – “or an intense dermatologist?!”  Scrape-scrape-scraaaaaaape….

“Now!”  The Aesthetician flung down the sander and briskly rubbed some oil between the hands.  “Time for the massage.”

“Oh thank goodness – ” the Aesthetician proceeded to compress the Customer’s skull.  Shoulders, arms, and hands then were dislocated and reinserted back into their sockets; there was one final smoothing out of muscles, and then the Aesthetician sat back, exhausted.

“Right!  All done.  I’ll leave you some water to replace the moisture you’ve lost as you get dressed before you come back to the front desk and give me my tip.”  The Aesthetician left the room and washed off the detritus from the session.

The Customer shakily returned to the front desk and was greeted by the Receptionist: “Hi there!  Feel nice and refreshed?”

“You have a mirror?”

“Sure!”  The Receptionist held up a small one.

“Huh.”  The Customer turned this way and that while looking at the reflection.  “It’s still there.”

“What, a blemish you wanted to get rid of?”

“No: my face.”

The Aesthetician emerged from the back expectantly: “Hello-hello-hello!”

The Customer handed over a bill: “Here you go, everything was great, I never want to see you again, thanks.”

“You’re welcome, come back soon, bye!”  The Aesthetician left to prepare for the next appointment: a deep-tissue, deep-nail pedicure.

The Customer turned back to the Receptionist: “I have a gift certificate.”

“Sure, I’ll take that for you!”  While processing the transaction, the Receptionist made a last-ditch effort for repeat business: “You know, we offer 25% off sales throughout the year – one’s even coming up in about two weeks!”

The Customer gingerly touched the right cheek, wincing: “I’ll have to think about it; this was a little more… intense than I expected for a spa visit.”

“Well, that’s because this is actually a medical spa – here, we don’t fool around.”

Story 398: Time for the Mastodon Check

 (On a park trail)

Friend 1: – and that’s the last time I’m getting that emotionally involved in a TV series ever again: after years of teasing, the showrunners basically gave the fans what we wanted with one hand, then punched us in the face with the other.

Friend 2: Uh-huh.  We all tell ourselves that, right up until the moment we do it all over again with the next show that sucks us in.

Friend 1: Of course.

(They walk for several seconds in silence)

Friend 2: Heh-heh – mastodon check.

Friend 1: I… don’t think I’ve ever heard two words strung together that made less sense then what you uttered just now.  Is my brain finally breaking down?

Friend 2: No, I’m just making a joke: someone once told me that “mastodon check” refers back to when our prehistoric ancestors hadn’t conquered Earth yet and still lived among larger creatures that could regularly pick them off, so they’d have to constantly be aware of what was around them when out hunter-gathering.  So present-day, when there’s a lull in conversation about every 20 minutes, it’s supposedly our instincts kicking in for us to look out that no giant hungry creatures like mastodons have snuck up on us while we were chit-chatting.

Friend 1: Oh.  Should we be looking for them, then?

Friend 2: …No, they’ve been extinct for quite some time.

Friend 1: Oh good.  For a minute there I thought one’d come out of the woods and eat us.

 Friend 2: You’re probably just hearing the deer – all you’d have to worry about from them coming out of the woods is running you over.

Friend 1: Yeah, that’d be a bummer.  You know, this whole thing about Neanderthals and woolly mammoths –

Friend 2: Mastodons.

Friend 1: – sounds like an interesting social experiment I’d like to try out.

Friend 2: I don’t like the sound of that.

Friend 2: Don’t worry, it’ll be purely observational.  It’ll be interesting to see how primitive we as a species still are and always will be.

Friend 2: I’d keep that observation to yourself.

 THE NEXT DAY

 (At an office, Friend 1 is in a conference room with several coworkers)

Coworker 1: OK, I think that’s it – meeting adjourned.  (Everyone starts to leave)

Friend 1: Wait a minute, shouldn’t we all –

Coworker 1: What?  Get out of here?  Yes.

Friend 1: – hang back for a few minutes?  We buzzed right through that meeting and there were no pauses whatsoever.

Coworker 2: Darn tootin’ – I hate meetings.

Friend 1: So, we have a few more minutes, and we should just, you know, take a breather.

Coworker 1: (Looks at cell phone) Yeah, OK, I’ve got a few before my next meeting.

Coworker 3: Another meeting?

Coworker 1: They’re all I seem to do lately.

Coworker 2: I hate meetings.

Coworker 1: Yes, we established that – I think you’ll find few who don’t.

Coworker 4: I miss when they’d serve food at these things.

The Rest: Yeah.

(They all sigh, then stare at the table in silence for several seconds)

Friend 1: (Whispers) Mastodon check….

Coworker 1: What?

Friend 1: I said, look at the time, gotta go, bye!  (Runs out of the room)

Coworker 3: (Yelling after Friend 1) But this was your idea!

 THE NEXT DAY

 (In a restaurant, Friend 1 is at dinner with a date)

Date: I told myself I’d never do online dating, but with everything going on lately, I figured, why not, eh?

Friend 1: (Nodding intensely while keeping an eye on one arm, sporting a wristwatch, stretched out on the table) Uh-huh, uh-huh, well, one needs to keep busy, doesn’t one, right?

Date: (Eyes dart over to Friend 1’s arm) Doooo you need to head out somewhere soon?

Friend 1: Huh?

Date: (Points to the watch) I don’t want to keep you.

Friend 1: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Date: Oh-kay.  (Drinks some water while looking around the restaurant)

Friend 1: Ha!  Twenty minutes!

Date: Excuse me?

Friend 1: Oh, I guess it doesn’t count if it’s more of an awkward pause than a natural lull.

Date: I feel like we’re having two different conversations here.

Friend 1: Sorry, don’t mind me, just doing a mental reset…. (Stares at the watch to memorize the new time)

Date: Maybe I should just ask for the check.

Friend 1: (Looks up suddenly) The mastodon check?!

Date: What?

Friend 1: What?

 THE NEXT DAY

(Friend 1 is at a family cook-out; relatives are standing around holding plates because all the tables are filled with the food being served)

Relative 1: (To Relative 2) Look, we’re never going to agree on this, so we might as well change the subject.  Wanna talk about politics instead?

Relative 2: YES!

Friend 1: (Walks over to them, holding a plate of food in one hand and a watch in the other) Excuse me, how long have you two been talking together?

Relative 2: About five minutes, why?

Friend 1: Drat, thought it was longer.  Proceed.  (Leaves)

Relative 1: (Mutters to Relative 2) That one’s always been a bit off.

(Friend 1 hovers on the edge of a larger, laughing group, which tapers off into silence)

Friend 1: (Hisses) Yessss… wait, forgot to set the time.

Relative 3: (Points to the distance) Hey, what’s that over there?

(Everyone shields their eyes as they turn to stare at a large shape in the distance coming closer to them; Friend 1’s eyes widen while the watch and plate are dropped)

Friend 1: (In a horrified whisper) The mastodon!

Relative 4: (Running in from the edges of the property) Everyone, quick, some mutant elephant’s on the loose or something, run!

(The relatives all drop their plates and run, forgetting that most of them had arrived in cars)

 Friend 1: (Answers ringing cell phone while on the move) You won’t believe what’s happening here right now!

Friend 2: (Relaxing on the living room couch while watching the TV) Oh, it’s by you?  I saw on the news some evil scientist cloned a mastodon from fossils and set it off on a rampage to “see Nature reassert its dominance,” and I immediately thought of you.  Guess you’d better run in the opposite direction then, huh.

Friend 1: (Still talking on the phone while running) You think our hunter-gathering instincts’ll kick in enough for us to fashion spears and herd this thing to the nearest nature preserve?!

Friend 2: I doubt it – I’m surprised any of you are even able enough to run away at this point in our species’ evolution.

Friend 1: (Starting to stagger) Seeing as I’m about to pass out from lack of air and muscle tone, I agreeeee!!!!