Story 314: I Voted, So I Can Complain

            (In a café)

            Friend 2: (Scrolling through phone) Oooh, the results are in!

            Friend 1: (Eating a muffin) Rah-ults uh wha?

           Friend 2: Don’t be gross – the township election results, what else would be going on right now?

           Friend 1: Sorry, thought we were up to Oscar season already.  So, which crooks are in office now?

             Friend 2: Ha-ha, at least most of them try to do some good.

            Friend 1: Of course they do.  Until the reality of entrenched corruption slaps them in the face and they’re forced to either join up with the villains or die, politically speaking.  Still, we usually get some paved roads and a new playground for the kiddies out of it, so there’s that.

            Friend 2: Whatever; I voted across parties this time and even wrote in a few names, so if they actually all get elected it’ll be interesting to see if anything gets done.  Although, since I did vote, I now have carte blanche to complain when nothing does.

           Friend 1: Really?  I hated all the choices this time around so I didn’t bother voting, but now you’re saying I’m not allowed to complain about it?

            Friend 2: (Stares) You?  Didn’t?  Vote?

            Friend 1: Facts.

            Friend 2: Why not?

            Friend 1: I counter that with “Why?”

          Friend 2: Be-be-because it’s the cornerstone of Democracy, and our ancestors fought for the right to have a say in how our government is run, and you’re just completely disregarding it like it was nothing!

          Friend 1: They fought for the right to have someone else do whatever they feel like when they’re in office, while we get stuck with “Bad” and “Worse” for at least four years or until the next puppet comes along.

            Friend 2: But how can you complain now when you didn’t even vote?

            Friend 1: Very easily: I complain all the time.

         Friend 2: But you willfully chose to have no say!  (Holds up the phone to show the election results) Of the two of us, I should be the only one allowed to complain that we’re stuck with Mayor McDouche, again!

            Friend 1: Ugh, what losers voted her in?

            Friend 2: Well, she may not’ve been if you had voted at all!

          Friend 1: (Thinks for a few moments) Nah, I might’ve selected her name by accident on the machine `cause it’s familiar.  Those things don’t let you go back and change your vote, even before you hit “Submit,” have you ever noticed that?

         Friend 2: I still can’t believe you of all people did not vote, and then have the unmitigated gall to complain about who was elected.  Only I have that right, do you hear me?!

            Friend 1: Calm down – it’s not against the law to not vote, and I can complain all I want about my fellows.  It’s my American right.

          Friend 2: You keep telling yourself that: if every citizen were like you, when it’s the Senate race next year you might find yourself out of office because no one bothered to show up at the polls!

            Friend 1: Nonsense – if no one voted then I’d just keep my seat forever until someone actually did.  Although, I probably would need to at least vote for myself, but I always feel like that’s a sign of vanity.

Story 313: The Haunted Hay Ride Will Not Be Cancelled Due to Rain

            Friend 1: (Answering phone) What’s up?

            Friend 2: (On phone) Yeah, I think we need to cancel for Sunday.

            Friend 1: What for?  You got the flu or something?

           Friend 2: What?  No – have you even checked the weather for this weekend?  I’m not doing a haunted hay ride in the pouring rain.

            Friend 1: The weather lies.

            Friend 2: I doubt the farm’ll even be open that day anyway.

           Friend 1: Are you kidding?  The last Sunday before Halloween?  This is their bread n` butter!  Besides, since this is the last Sunday before Halloween and I spent the last three weekends working double shifts, we are doing this, end of story.

            Friend 2: But the weather –

            Friend 1: THE WEATHER LIES!

THAT SUNDAY AFTERNOON

            (At a local farm, Friends 1 and 2 stand on a very short line for the haunted hay ride in the pouring rain)

            Friend 2: I can’t believe they stayed open.  I can’t believe there’s even a line right now.

           Friend 1: I can’t believe tickets for this thing are over $10 and I clocked this last bunch coming in at under 10 minutes.

            Friend 2: Maybe they all drowned.

        (The farm tractor hauling a covered trailer of hay bales pulls up, discharges five customers, and idles while the next group with Friends 1 and 2 climb aboard)

          Friend 1: Ooh, we should sit towards the back so we’ll be right near where the creepy creatures barge right on in!

            Friend 2: (Plops down onto a squishy hay bale) Must we?

           (The tractor sputters into motion)

           Werewolf Driver: (Shouting back to the passengers over the engine and the deluge) Stay inside at all times, don’t touch the actors, and have a spooky good time!

            Passengers: WHAT?

            Werewolf Driver: I SAID HAVE FUN, DAMMIT!

         (They wind through fields and forests with hanging figures, artfully arranged scenes of carnage, and witty tombstones scattered throughout, when they hear a chainsaw revving up)

            Friend 1: Oh boy, here we go, let the terror commence!

            Friend 2: There’s no chance of getting electrocuted with that thing, right?

            (A masked fiend bounds onto the trailer, waving around the chainsaw to the delighted screams of the passengers)

            Masked Fiend: ROOOOOAAAAARRRRR – oop.  (Slips and falls onto the floor)

            Friend 2: Are you OK?

            Friend 1: (Whacks Friend 2 on the shoulder) Ssh, don’t make them break character!

          Masked Fiend: (Struggles to stand, then weakly flourishes the now-silent chainsaw at everyone one last time) Roar.  (Hops off the back of the trailer and limps into the woods)

            Friend 1: (To Friend 2) And you didn’t even help `em up.

          (They trundle past several rundown shacks that come alive with animatronic devilry at their approach, with screams and flashing lights to emphasize the horror)

            Friend 2: (To Werewolf Driver) Excuse me?  Are the sparks flying out of those buildings part of the show, or is everything starting to short out?

            Werewolf Driver: …Yes.

          (An evil clown tries to climb on board but is weighed down by a waterlogged costume and wig, and the terrifying makeup is all runny.  Evil Clown gets onto one rung, then waves off the passengers and hops back off the trailer)

            Friend 1: Well, that should be at least a $2 refund.

          (At the last stretch of trail, the demon sheriff car that was supposed to follow them becomes mired in the mud, the zombies chasing them keep falling on their faces, and the witch who hops onto the trailer has the skirt tied to a wrist, revealing jeans and sneakers)

           Witch: (Cackles in everyone’s faces for two seconds, then asks in a low voice) Anyone here have an umbrella?  (They all shake their head “No”; in a witchy voice) Then I’ll see you all in my witchy brew, ahahaha – !  (Starts sneezing violently and almost falls of the trailer while exiting)

           Friend 2: (Spitting out water now pouring off the trailer’s roof; to Friend 1) You know, I’m just not feeling it this year.

           Friend 1: Me neither – the kids they hire these days are completely unprofessional.

Story 312: Ghost of Garbage Past

            (On a park trail, Hiker is walking at a brisk pace and whistling a merry tune.  Finishing off a plastic water bottle, she tosses it over her shoulder into the bushes off to the side.  Pulling a newspaper out of her backpack, she reads it for a bit while walking and then crumples it up and pitches it overhand into the woods.  She then pulls a bunch of plastic bags out of the backpack, tosses the bundle back and forth between her hands, then lifts one leg to chuck the bag bunch underneath her knee and bank it off a tree.  She pauses in her stride and whistling when she sees a trail marker with a bag hanging on it – a bag obviously filled with animal waste)

            Hiker: (Shaking her head in disgust as she moves on) Dog walkers.

            (She continues on the trail, oblivious to the POV shot shakily watching her through the trees and bushes.  There are cracking branches, crackling leaves, and ominous music, signaling something approaching closer)

            Hiker: (Consulting a trail map) Ugh!  This must be out-of-date – there clearly is not a bridge for me to cross this pesky stream here anymore.  (Crushes the map and throws it into a hollow in a nearby tree, then hears the cracking and crackling as they get closer) Chipmunks must be antsy today.  (Starts walking again as the POV shot shakily and quickly zooms towards her – she finally turns around, widens her eyes, throws her arms out wide, and screams weirdly)

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

            (At the trailhead at dusk, three park rangers and Hiker’s Relative assemble)

            Chief Ranger: (To the other rangers) Still no sign?

            Park Ranger 1: (Out of breath) No, and I did the black diamond trail twice.

            Hiker’s Relative: Why?  I told you she only does the blue square trail.

            Park Ranger 1: Oh right, I forgot.

           Park Ranger 2: Well, I did all three blue square trails, and nothing – however, this just lends credence to my argument that we need to install cameras along all the trails, especially since I just now found at least 10 bags of dog poop and they show up at the same time and in the same places each week –

            Chief Ranger: We are not discussing this again: there’s no money in the budget for cameras on all 15 miles of trails here.

            Park Ranger 2: Oh, but there’s money in the budget for all the antibiotics we have to take for infections and the biohazard suits we have to wear, then?!

            (There are rustling trees at the trailhead, indicating something is approaching)

            Hiker’s Relative: What’s that?

          (They all shine flashlights at the shaky POV shot heading closer to them, accompanied by ominous music)

            Chief Ranger: (Mutters) Wish there was enough in the budget for at least stun guns.

            (After a lot of noise, Hiker stumbles out of the woods and into the parking lot; she is covered head-to-toe in all sorts of dripping garbage)

            Hiker: Gross… gross….

            Park Ranger 2: Ghost?

            Park Ranger 1: Ghost!

         (They scream until Chief Ranger smacks them both upside the head; Hiker collapses into Relative’s arms)

            Hiker’s Relative: Gross.

            Chief Ranger: (To Hiker) What happened to you out there?

            Hiker: (Shivering) Unclean… monster… revenge…..

            Park Ranger 2: (Nodding encouragingly) Ghost?

            Chief Ranger: Unbelievable.  Why can’t we just have a normal mugger like every other public place out there?

*          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *

(In a meeting room at the Ranger Station the next day)

Park Ranger 2: (Standing next to a projector screen that has a photo of trash all along a trail on it) And that is why our carry-in/carry-out policy clearly is not working.

Chief Ranger: We’re here to talk about last night’s ghost incident, not your ongoing campaign against the littering trailwalkers.

Park Ranger 2: I felt now was a good time to resurrect the issue, if you get my meaning.

Chief Ranger: I’d rather not; now sit down.  (Park Ranger 2 sits on a folding chair next to Park Ranger 1; Chief Ranger stands to address them) So, after the police interviewed that hiker last night, turns out there’s no actual description of a perp, no known motive, and no real damage done except needing to take a really long shower.

Park Ranger 1: Wait, no description?  She didn’t see the ghost that did it?

Chief Ranger: Well, she said it basically was – (Checks notebook) “A moving mass of garbage.”  Obviously can’t work off of that.

Park Ranger 2: (Shoots hand into the air) Oooh, oooh, I’ve got it!  Maybe it’s not a “ghost” per se: maybe it’s the woods itself attacking people who litter, using their own garbage against them as the perfect form of revenge!

Chief Ranger: …Nah, I like it being a ghost better.  Right – we’re going to spend today walking the trails and seeing if there are any remnants this weirdo spirit may have left behind.

Park Ranger 1: Shouldn’t the cops be doing that?  `Cause we’re not cops.

Chief Ranger: They are doing that, but they don’t know the trails like we do, with all the places people up to no good tend to hang out.  Figure the ghost’d go there, too.

Park Ranger 1: Yeah, I don’t really know all those, either.

Chief Ranger: For the love of – (Grabs a pamphlet titled “Undercover Trails” from a drawer and hands it to Park Ranger 1) Bring this with you and try to memorize at least some of it, please?  And if you two find anything suspicious, radio me and I’ll bring the police to your position.

Park Ranger 2: Does suspicious include –

Chief Ranger: Just if you find any humans, living or after-living, where they shouldn’t be.

Park Ranger 1: (Points to an area on the brochure) Heh-heh, I remember this spot from when I was in high school.

Chief Ranger: Yes, about 500 teenagers have gone there; none of you have any originality.

Park Ranger 1: Oh.  I thought it was special.

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            (On the trail around where Hiker was garbaged)

            Park Ranger 2: (Wearing gloves and collecting trash into a large bag) Not enough money for cameras – I know it’s the same 27 people spreading their filth wherever they go, I just need to start following them or something.  (Stops suddenly, looking at the full bag) Let’s try this.  (Cringes, then upends the bag to spread the contents onto the middle of the trail; addressing the skies) OH MY.  LOOK WHAT JUST HAPPENED – ALL THESE POTATO CHIP BAGS AND CIGARETTE BUTTS AND WATER BOTTLES AND PLASTIC WRAPPERS AND TISSUES AND WHAT-NOT, JUST ALL OVER THE PLACE.  (Peers closer at the pile)  Are those condoms and tampons?!

           (POV shot shakily and quickly approaches to the sound of cracking branches, crackling leaves, and ominous music; Park Ranger 2 turns around)

            Park Ranger 2: (Eyes widen upon seeing a massive wall of garbage moving quickly closer) I KNEW IT!  (As Wall almost hits, Park Ranger 2 holds out hands) WAIT!  (Wall freezes; Park Ranger 2 quickly picks up all the pieces of garbage again and places them back into the bag) Are you the Ghost of Garbage Past, or are you the Spirit of the Woods, or are you Mother Nature herself?  (Wall shrugs) You know, I’ve been trying to tackle this problem of people tossing their stuff around here like the park is one giant trash bin for years, but there are so many acres and so few of us that it’s felt like a losing battle for some time now.  (Wall shrugs again) You also know, they’re gonna wind up pinning what you did on some unknown rando – I’d say keep on doing it, but no one’ll ever believe who you really are and mend their ways because of that, so what’s the point of you garbaging people?  (Wall marks the word “REVENGE” on the trail) True, but they’re still going to litter anyway, because they learn nothing.  Maybe I can sneak garbage cans onto next year’s budget and have some volunteers sweep through here more often?  (Wall shrugs, then leaves)  Thanks!  Maybe still get dump yourself on some of those jerks though, just to keep them on their toes, know what I mean?

            *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *          *         

            (Back at the Ranger Station)

            Chief Ranger: So none of us found anything?

           Park Ranger 1: Actually, I did find a pot garden and $14 in quarters, but I figured that’s not what you meant.

            Chief Ranger: (To Park Ranger 2) And you?

            Park Ranger 2: I think we won’t be having this problem anymore. (Winks broadly)

            Chief Ranger: What on Earth are you talking about?

           Park Ranger 2: Uh, actually, uh, no one else has reported anything unusual on the trails, and that Hiker called this afternoon saying she’s joining some nature organization that preserves open spaces and such, so… that, should be… that.

           Chief Ranger: What?!  Some freak human or freak inhuman could still be out there dumping garbage all over taxpayers, and you think it’s case closed?!

         Park Ranger 2: (Looks out the window at the gently swaying trees) We’ve come to an arrangement.

             Chief Ranger: Now that’s just creepy.