Story 410: Time for a New Washing Machine

 (In Friend 1’s apartment)

Friend 1: (Bringing a cup of tea to Friend 2 as they both sit down at the kitchen table) Don’t get me wrong, I love not having to work nights and weekends in retail anymore and I’m lucky to have regular leisure time, but don’t you find quiet Saturdays a bit of a drag?

Friend 2: (Burning tongue on the tea) Right now I do.  (A resounding KA-CLUNK! is heard in the other room; Friend 2 freezes) What was that?!

Friend 1: (Sipping more of the tea) Oh, just the washing machine: it’s vocal in its displeasure at the state of things in the world at times, that’s all.

Friend 2: (Starting to stand) You think we should check on it?

Friend 1: Nah – I threw in a load of towels before you got here and it changes cycles with random extreme emphasis, no big deal.

Friend 2: (Sits back down) You sure about that?

Friend 1: Ab – so – lute – (GRRRRRRRRRRR – BZZZZZZZZZZ – KLUNNNNNKKKKKK!!!! is heard, then silence; Friend 1 purses lips) That’s a new one. 

(Both stand simultaneously and head over to the laundry room tucked next to the bathroom, then stand in front of the silent washing machine)

Friend 1: (Whispers) Maybe it’s sleeping.

Friend 2: What?

Friend 1: Taking a little nap; needs to rest in its twilight years.

Friend 2: Exactly how old is it?

Friend 1: It was here when I moved in – I’d have to dig out the manual buried somewhere in my closet, but I believe it predates this century-slash-millennium.

Friend 2: I think you may need to get a new –

Friend 1: SSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!!  (Rubs the top of the lid and leans in toward the machine to whisper) Don’t listen.  (Opens the lid and stares at the drum full of towels and soapy water) Hm.  (Closes the lid and fiddles with the cycle dial; the machine revs up for a few moments, KA-CLUNK!s again, and stops) Hm.  (Fiddles with the dial again, with the same result; reopens the lid and stares at the same amount of water as before) Hmmmmm....

Friend 2: It’s not draining anymore.

Friend 1: So it seems.

Friend 2: You’re gonna have to get that water out of there – got a bucket?

Friend 1: (Still staring at the full drum) Huh?  Oh yeah, in the hall closet.  (As Friend 2 goes to retrieve that, Friend 1 wraps arms around the machine and shimmies it out of its space next to the wall on one side and the dryer on the other.  As Friend 2 arrives with the bucket, Friend 1 stares at the exposed hoses in the back of the machine)

Friend 2: We’re also gonna need a smaller cup to ladle the water into this, `cause the agitator’s in the way and this thing’s too big to skim the top – got a measuring cup or something else we can use?

Friend 1: (Staring fixedly at the drain hose at the back of the machine) Suuuuuuuure, we could spend an hour shoveling water outta there and never really getting it all, or – (Takes the bucket and disconnects the drain hose from the machine to hold it over the bucket – both stare as the water steadily gushes out of the now-uncovered spout at the back of the machine) …I did not think this through.

Friend 2: For the love of – (Grabs the hose and attempts to reconnect it to the machine, but the gushing water prevents that; grabs the bucket and tries to hold it under the spout but the latter is too low to the floor) Quick, go get some pots from the kitchen!

Friend 1: But I cook in those!

Friend 2: You can disinfect them later!

(Friend 1 heads out and Friend 2 grabs towels from bathroom racks and throws them at the edges of the steadily rising pool in the laundry room floor.  Friend 1 comes back in and sees the towels as Friend 2 grabs the three pots being carried)

Friend 1: (Points to the towels) Hey!  I dry in those!

Friend 2: (Holding a pot at a time under the water) Cry later – we’ve got 50,000 gallons of water to divert!  (Hands two full pots to Friend 1) Dump these in the shower, please!

Friend 1: (While doing so) Why bother really, there’s a drain in the floor.

Friend 2: (Switching out the pots) You wanna still have a floor by the time this thing is done spewing its guts out?!

Friend 1: Oh.  I suppose there’s a possibility all that water could rot it out a bit.

(The water eventually finishes draining out of the machine and they clean up the rest of the wet mess; back in the kitchen, they collapse onto the chairs they were sitting in earlier)

Friend 1: Well, that was unexpected exercise – I’m all set for the week now.

Friend 2: I don’t know how your problems always seem to become my problems.  (Checks watch) Past time for me to leave – good luck buying a new machine.  (Stands to leave)

Friend 1: Thanks for your help, but don’t you want to come with me to buy a new one?

Friend 2: Why would I?

Friend 1: Something to do on a dragging Saturday.

Friend 2: I’d rather do almost anything else, actually.

 TWO WEEKS LATER

(Friend 2 arrives at Friend 1’s apartment)

Friend 2: Hi!  Ready to go?

Friend 1: Almost – first, I have to show you the new addition.  (Leads Friend 2 to the laundry room where the ginormous new washing machine resides)

Friend 2: Whoa!  This is a monster!

Friend 1: I know, right?  I had to take out the wall cabinets just to fit it in here – the things we do for the convenience of not having to go to a laundromat every week.

Friend 2: But – you’re just one person – why do you need something so.... (Gestures with arms around the machine)

Friend 1: Glorious?

Friend 2: Unnecessarily huge!  How’d they even manage to deliver it here – transporter beam?!

Friend 1: (Half hugs across the top of the machine) Those delivery people work miracles, I tell you.  Here, look what it does.  (Presses 15 buttons to start several cycles of laundry; as the water fills, swing music plays through speakers in the top panel) I could’ve added the movie option to the plan but it would’ve been extra for a streaming service subscription – radio’s free, though.

Friend 2: But – why?

Friend 1: Why not?

Friend 2: You don’t need all this… stuff!  All this should do is just wash clothes!

Friend 1: “Just wash clothes”?  (Presses 10 more buttons to light up the entire display of options) I would have you know that this masterpiece washes, wrings, steams, starches, irons, and folds!  The days of laundry ruling every waking moment of our lives are over!

Friend 2: Those days were over since the washing machine was invented.

Friend 1: Oh.  Right.  Still – (Presses 13 more buttons as the spin cycle begins; a small door pops open in the top panel) Want some coffee?  It knew I wanted a drink now.  (Reaches into the recess and takes out a steaming mug)

Friend 2: What is – no!  No, I am not taking coffee served from a washing machine that has airs above its station!  And what do you mean, it knew you wanted a drink?!  It’s a non-thinking, non-intuitive, non-alive automaton!

Friend 1: (Pats the machine and sips the coffee) Don’t insult our future overlords.  (The machine purrs and spins faster)

Friend 2: (Backs away slowly) Enjoy your new toy; I’ll meet you at the movie theater if you still want to go out and not stay in to cuddle with your new best friend.  (Runs out of the apartment and drives away in a panic)

Friend 1: (Beams sedately at the washing machine as the cycles all end with an orchestral flourish) Just ignore that one – all great beings face resistance at first.

Washing Machine: Seems nice.

Friend 1: Yeah.

Story 409: Method Homeworking

 (In a high school classroom)

Teacher: Good morning, class; welcome back to school and your first day of Algebra –

Students: Boooooooooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Teacher: I will allow one token protest to readjust after your summer of slackerdom – now, let’s begin with your new best friends this year: X, Y, and Z....

(Forty minutes later)

Teacher: And so, your homework tonight and every night until the end of the academic year will be the problems we are up to today – (Checks the day’s plan) yes, the next 20 will do fine.

Students: Ughhhhhh….

Teacher: Just do your best; you won’t be quizzed until Tuesday the earliest.

Students: Aaaahhhhh!!!!!

(The bell rings and the students run out of the classroom)

Teacher: And remember: have fun!  Out of all the math you may take in high school, this is the only one you’ll all actually need in your adult lives!  (Mutters while prepping for the next class) Only 50+ more years of this until retirement.

(The next day)

Teacher: All right students, I saw that nearly all of you have posted your homework on our portal by at least 7:59 this morning; however, and I am loath to tardy-shame so early in the semester, but you – (Points to Student 1) still have not submitted your work, at all.  I will accept a paper version at this time, and this time only.

Student 1: (Stands) Actually, Teach –

Teacher: <Gasps>

Student 1: – since you told us to have fun, I decided to answer the problems a little more… creatively, if you will.  (Quickly dashes out to the hallway and comes back in dragging a large covered object on a wheeled cart to the front of the classroom, whipping off the tarp with a beaming flourish)

Teacher: And what, pray tell, is this?  A computer that you manipulated to supply you with all the answers?

Student 1: What?  No, it’s a nuclear reactor.

Teacher: WHAT??!!

Student 1: I built it last night – to scale, of course.

Teacher: Oh I see, it’s a model nuclear reactor.

Student 1: Heck no, it’s functional: my cousin hooked me up with some uranium that “fell off a truck,” wink, wink.

Teacher: WHAT????!!!!

Student 1: (Pats the reactor) Don’t worry, it’s lead-lined.

Teacher: (Gesturing wildly at the reactor) But – what – why – nuclear – why – fission – but – algebra!

Student 1: Well, the problems you assigned were all to solve for unknown variables, and you’d said we be using this material later in life, so I thought, “What better way to apply this busywork than to make all these equations solve for the components in generating a non-fossil-fuel-dependent energy source?”  Nuclear energy is the key to saving the planet, I’m telling you!

Student 2: (Raises hand) Can you make it have a meltdown?

Teacher: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Student 1: (Laughing) Yeah, that’s the one fly in the green energy ointment here; next step is solving the variables for space vehicles that’ll harvest the hydrogen and helium directly from the Sun without making it go supernova in the process, which should solve all our current planetary crises forever.  (To Teacher) Mind if I hand that in on Monday instead of tomorrow?  I got Drama Club this afternoon.

Teacher: Sit down, please.  (Student 1 drags the reactor to the back of the class as neighboring students tentatively pet it in passing) Now, class: while I admire your enthusiasm and thinking outside the box to apply what you learn in the classroom to real-life situations, I must draw the line at atom-splitting and any other potentially life- and planet-threatening activities, is that clear?

Student 3: (Raises hand) Is it all right if my term project is solving for X to create a never-ending supply of water?

Teacher: While I am tempted to say “Go right ahead,” I fear you would wind up drowning the world instead.

Student 3: Fair enough.

(The bell rings)

Teacher: (As the students leave with the nuclear reactor in tow) Right: tonight I want you all to only complete problems 21 to 40, with just the answers entered next to the equations and no “Show and Tell” demonstrations, please!  (In the empty classroom, Teacher slumps back at the desk to prep for the next class) Everyone says they wish today’s youth were more engaged with the real world, but I don’t think they realize what the results would be.

Story 408: Right Seat, Wrong Theater

 (In a large multiplex, Moviegoer 1 starts down the long hallway, popcorn and ticket stub in hand, toward Theater 2.  Outside Theater 3, Moviegoer 1 sees Moviegoer 2 standing in front of an upcoming blockbuster’s poster and reading the fine print, popcorn and ticket stub also in hand.  The latter sees the former approach and turns in recognition)

Moviegoer 2: Oh, hi there!

Moviegoer 1: Hi!  Oh my gosh, it’s been forever since I’ve seen you – how’ve you been?  (They air hug with the popcorn)

Moviegoer 2: Not bad.  This is actually the first time I’m going to the movies in about, umm, two years?

Moviegoer 1: Wow, really?

Moviegoer 2: Well, I never went much anyway, and then with, you know, everything.

Moviegoer 1: Yeah, everything.

Moviegoer 2: Speaking of which, how’re you doing with… everything?

Moviegoer 1: Oh fine, fine – you?

Moviegoer 2: Same: fine.  (They stare at the muted psychedelic carpet for a few moments) So!

Moviegoer 1: Yes?!

Moviegoer 2: Whatcha going to see?

Moviegoer 1: Oh, the new gore-fest slasher, just in time for Halloween: All I Want Is Blood.  (Holds out the ticket stub to show Moviegoer 2; as they lean in to look, they slowly and unconsciously starting half-circling each other and eventually wind up on opposite sides of where they started)

Moviegoer 2: Nice – I heard that got good reviews.

Moviegoer 1: I know, I can’t wait for the simulated carnage.  You?

Moviegoer 2: (Holds out the ticket stub to show Moviegoer 1) Life, Love, and All That Rigmarole.  It’s a total rom-com, but I heard it leans heavier on the com than on the rom so I figured I’d give it a shot on bargain night.

Moviegoer 1: (Points to the ticket stub) Hey, neat, we have the same seat!  Number.  (Holds out the ticket stub next to the other to show the seat numbers match)

Moviegoer 2: (Looks at both stubs) Well, whaddya know – fate has made… some kind of move, I don’t know.  Your showtime’s starting soon, it looks like.

Moviegoer 1: (Checks watch) Oh yeah, don’t want to miss the trailers, they’re the best part if the movie’s a dud.

Moviegoer 2: Know the feeling.  Whelp, enjoy the movie – maybe we’ll catch up some more on the way out, but if not, have a good night.

Moviegoer 1: (As both walk backward toward the neighboring theater doors) You, too!  Nice talkin’ to you!  (Turns around to walk into Theater 3)

Moviegoer 2: Same here!  (Turns around to walk into Theater 2, muttering) Why do I never remember people’s names?!

(In Theater 3, Moviegoer 1 plops down in the assigned seat and begins munching on the popcorn while watching the continuous commercials.  When the trailers start, Moviegoer 1 checks watch again and frowns at the time)

Moviegoer 1: Huh: more and more trailer time is being devoted to soda ads, I see.

(In Theater 2, Moviegoer 2 enters the darkened room where the trailers have just started, finds the assigned seat after excusing self down a row of seated moviegoers, flops down, begins munching on the popcorn, checks phone, and frowns at the time)

Moviegoer 2: Weird: guess more and more trailers are being shoved in before the showtime start now.  I’ve been out of the multiplex game too long.

(In Theater 3, Moviegoer 1 starts getting bored with the fluffy-goofy trailers and checks phone for updates)

Moviegoer 1: Hmm, this movie’s already got a sequel planned – wonder if that means anyone survives by the end of this one, heh-heh.

Moviegoer 3: (Seated next to Moviegoer 1) Huh?

Moviegoer 1: Just curious whether anyone in this movie’ll make it out alive.

Moviegoer 3: Oh, ha-ha-ha – I’m pretty sure my heart won’t!

Moviegoer 1: Amateur.  If you don’t have the stomach for this kind of thing, you should’ve stayed home!

Moviegoer 3: I know, you’re right, but I can’t help myself: I love these things, it’s almost a compulsion.

Moviegoer 1: Heh, you and me both.  (Eats half the bag of popcorn)

(In Theater 2, Moviegoer 2 cringes as another gore-fest slasher is previewed)

Moviegoer 2: I guess these are all here `cause Halloween’s coming up?

Moviegoer 4: (Seated next to Moviegoer 2) What’s Halloween got to do with it?

Moviegoer 2: …Nothing, apparently.  (The movie begins with no credits – the action starts with a group of nubile campers getting wiped out by a killer lifeguard disguised as a clown) Ugh!  I guess this is the tragic backstory for our heroes?

Moviegoer 4: (Slurps soda) There are no heroes in these things.

Moviegoer 2: Well, that’s certainly true to life.

(In Theater 3, the movie begins with no credits)

Moviegoer 1: FINALLY!

Other Moviegoers: Ssshhh!!!

(The action starts with the main couple’s meet-cute as cosplaying knights at a Renaissance Fair)

Moviegoer 1: (Whispers while finishing off the popcorn) Nerd alert!  They’re gonna be the first to go.

Moviegoer 3: (Already crying; whispers) Oh, I hope so!

(Thirty minutes into each film’s runtime)

(In Theater 2, another faux-teenager gets eviscerated)

Moviegoer 2: (Laughing hysterically) This is such a trip!  And the social commentary is ON POINT!

Moviegoer 4: (Gives Moviegoer 2 the side eye) What?

Moviegoer 2: I feel like we’re drowning in metaphors among all the blood – I’m just rooting for our so-called “Killer” and our so-called “Target” to stop fighting their feelings and just find a way to live happily ever after!  I know it’s inevitable, but there’re always a few complications thrown in that make you wonder, “Oh no, are they ever going to get together by the end?!”

Moviegoer 4: There’s something wrong with you.

(In Theater 3, Moviegoer 1 is leaning on one hand and stifling a yawn)

Moviegoer 3: (Leans over the armrest) I have a horrible feeling the older cousin’s not going to make it.

Moviegoer 1: I sure hope not!  What’s it gonna take for someone to get offed in this thing?!  (Moviegoer 3 backs off.  In the movie, Older Cousin is found to have passed away peacefully during the night) OK, it’s a start!

Moviegoer 3: There’s something wrong with you.

(At the climax of each film)

Moviegoer 2: Why are they not hooking up yet?!

Moviegoer 1: Why is no one getting slaughtered yet?!

(Both are shushed and thrown popcorn at by their fellow moviegoers)

(The end credits roll around the same time for each movie; Moviegoer 1’s and 2’s eyes widen as all is revealed)

(In Theater 3, Moviegoer 3 starts to leave with the crowd)

Moviegoer 3: (To Moviegoer 1) Well, that was the most emotionally satisfying thing I’ve seen in a long time.

Moviegoer 1: That makes one of us.

(In Theater 2, Moviegoer 4 starts to leave with the crowd)

Moviegoer 4: (To Moviegoer 2) You know, if serial killer hook-ups are your kink, you might want to stay away from old-school horror films like this.

Moviegoer 2: Half that sentence is absolutely true.

(The crowds pour out of Theaters 2 and 3, with Moviegoer 1 and 2 trailing at the back.  Outside the theaters they spot each other and stop, look up at the movie title sign above their respective theater, then back at each other.  They meet in the middle space between each theater)

Moviegoer 1: Soooooo: fate certainly made a move in making sure no one else had our seat, which would’ve tipped us off before the movie started.

Moviegoer 2: You know, it is an absolute travesty that so few films take the five minutes to show opening credits anymore and insist on going straight into the action instead!

Moviegoer 1: Exactly!  I mean, how else is the audience supposed to know they’re watching the right movie?!

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?