Story 414: How to Get Out of a Horror Movie Alive, Part 2

 Scenario 4: A horribly mutated insect, hundreds of times the usual size, predictably escapes the lab of its creation and indulges its taste for human flesh, tearing apart the local infrastructure in the meantime

(In the lab that was the scene of the crime against nature, a group of scientists huddle up)

Scientist 1: It attacks without warning; it covers its victims with a viscous, acidic fluid before it devours them whole; it seems impervious to bullets, bombs, electric shocks, and that one bread knife over there; and to top it all off, scans show it’s ready to lay a whole bunch of eggs on the roof that it will then stop at nothing to protect and will cover the Earth with its indestructible spawn when they all hatch!

Scientist 2: (Raises hand) Question: if it’s going to lay eggs, doesn’t that actually make “it” a “she”?

Scientist 3: Yeah, now she’s just a momma trying to protect her babies.  Although, won’t she need a mate first to fertilize them?

Scientist 4: Ooh, should we create one for her?

Scientist 1: Don’t make this life-and-death situation ethically complicated!  We must wipe them all out, now!  I mean, look what just one of these monsters did to our little town – imagine what an army of them would do to a major metropolis!

Scientist 3: I say we take our mad colleague who created this mess and feed `em to her – that should close the loop nicely.

Scientist 1: Our mad colleague was her first meal!

Scientist 3: Oh right, forget about that.  I withdraw my proposal.

Scientist 2: (Raises hand again) Hold on everyone: I have an idea….

(Hours later, the horribly mutated insect returns from her most recent meal foray, crawls up the outside of the lab building, and scampers across the roof to continue her insect world-building when she crosses a trip wire that releases a giant diamond fly swatter, which swings down and crushes the creature against the roof.  The scientists run out from their hiding place and stand in a circle around the remains)

Scientist 2: Yep: diamonds still remain the hardest substance on the planet.

Scientist 1: At last: the monster has been destroyed, and the world is safe from yet another human-made disaster.

(They stare at the smushed body some more)

Scientist 3: Sooooo… who’s going to clean this up?

 Scenario 5: Through an unfortunate close encounter, an everyday schlub gets transformed into a monster and now struggles with newfound powers and appetite

(In a café, the transformed schlub, covered in copious amounts of body hair, sporting fangs, rotting flesh falling off, and antennae swiveling around, sits at a table sipping coffee with Best Friend)

Schlub: (Prehensile tongue shoots out and slurps in a muffin; swallows and smacks lips) Nope – none of my former food and drink vices are doing it for me anymore.  I think my body is turning me toward one, single menu item: human being.  Which I don’t think counts as cannibalism since I’m clearly no longer a human being myself.  (Scratches ear with foot)

Best Friend: Mm.  (Sips coffee) You sure about that?  Wanting to eat people, I mean.

Schlub: Usually how these things go.

Best Friend: Just because you don’t like the food you used to eat doesn’t mean an all-human diet’ll do the trick.  Maybe your body’s just rejecting processed foods now.

Schlub: That’s ridicu – oh.  You think so?

Best Friend: You should try farm-to-table.

Schlub: Hmmm….

(Schlub goes to an organic farm and is served fresh fruit and vegetables and non-hormone-saturated animals)

Schlub: (Using claws to cut food on the plate; speaks to the farm family with a full mouth) This meal is AMAZING!  I no longer have the urge to devour everyone in sight!  And I can feel the chemicals built up in me over the decades practically melting away!  You know, everyone should eat like this, every day!

Farmer 1: (Gesturing to Farmer 2 and children that they can put away the pitchforks they had at the ready) We’ve been telling everybody that all our lives.

Schlub: I bet!  If I’d known it’d be like this, I’d’ve wished that monster had gotten me years ago!  Except for the body hair – could do without that.

Scenario 6: A possessed doll stalks a family in their apartment

Doll: (Slowly opens the creaking door to a bedroom where the family is hiding; the doll is wielding a butcher knife and grinning sadistically) Trick or treat!  Oh wait, has that been used already?

Relative 1: Now!

(The family members pounce on the doll with a large blanket and take the bundle into the kitchen where they set it on fire in the sink.  As the bundle burns, they hold up all the religious books over the remains; they then scoop up the ashes and take them to a nondenominational cemetery to sprinkle them around a tree to feed new life)

Relative 2: So, what if the ashes reassemble themselves to begin the cycle of evil anew?

Relative 1: The local dog walkers who come through here should take care of that before it becomes a problem.

Scenario 7: The killer is calling from inside the house

Resident: (Answers ringing phone) Mmm-yello?

Killer: Howdy.  I’m upstairs and soon I’ll be coming downstairs to kill you.

Resident: `Kay, thanks for the heads-up.  (Leaves the house)

Killer: (Stands at a upstairs bedroom window, still holding the phone and watching Resident walk down the street while dialing 9-1-1) I probably should revise my script.

Story 413: How to Get Out of a Horror Movie Alive, Part 1

 Scenario 1: Trapped in an excessively huge mansion by a vengeful killer ghost, and circumstances

(In the ostentatious drawing room, Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 are seated in huge armchairs reading wordy tomes when the killer ghost flies in, knocking knick-knacks off the many, many shelves and making all sorts of ruckus)

Spouse 1: (Barely looking up from the book) I say, Nanny?

Nanny: (Pops head in through the doorway) Yeah?

Spouse 1: I know it wasn’t in the job description, but would you mind solving the mystery of why this dratted specter haunts our family generation after generation and now also has a disturbing connection with our off-putting child?  We’ve endured it gracefully for centuries, but the constant property destruction and the occasional throat-slashing tend to wear on one.

Spouse 2: Quite.  (Blinks as a vase crashes on their head)

Nanny: (Nods) Uh-huh, I could do that, ORRRRRR.... (Tosses the off-putting child into the room) I could quit and drive right on outta here.

Spouse 1: But this is your first day.

Nanny: (Ducks as flames shoot overhead) That it is, and I’ve seen enough, byeeeee!!!!  (Slams the door, then opens it again to pop head back in through the doorway) By the way, I’ve called Child Protective Services on you lot.  (Slams the door again and speeds off with squealing tires and plowing through decorative hedges)

(Spouse 1 and Spouse 2 stare at each other as the off-putting child and the killer ghost begin to merge souls, and the mansion’s very foundations quake)

Spouse 2: My word.

Scenario 2: An unstoppable, possibly non-human serial killer is working through a group of young adults at a campsite

(The four bedraggled remaining campers have gathered in a circle next to a small cliff for cover)

Remaining Camper 1: Right everyone, so we’ve tried knives, we’ve tried axes, we’ve tried javelins, flamethrowers, boulders, canoe paddles, a soccer ball, fishing tackle, some kid’s left-behind tricycle, glue, and even that one disturbingly smuggled-in gun that we need to have a conversation about later, and this dude still is on the move.  All phone signals and lines are out so no one is coming to save us, and our friend managed to slash all our cars’ tires and drain all the gas tanks while we weren’t looking.  I am officially out of ideas and supplies, and now open to any suggestion no matter how ludicrous.  (Remaining Camper 2 raises a hand) Yes, thank you, what?

Remaining Camper 2: We could just walk out of here.

Remaining Camper 1: We – what?

Remaining Camper 2: Town’s not too far away; we just follow the main drive back to the highway.  I doubt we’d even have to go through the woods to get there.  Dude can have the place all to himself then, which is what I think this is really all about, deep down.

Remaining Camper 1: But – but – we’d never make it!  We’d get picked off one-by-one, either by this weirdo or by some ravenous bear, right before we’ve achieved victory!

Remaining Camper 2: I doubt it: we’d be in a group and the dude always waits until we’re alone before going after somebody, and if we make enough noise the bear won’t want to be bothered.

Remaining Camper 1: Oh.  I guess.

Remaining Camper 3: Don’t run, either – it’ll seem like we’re panicking.

Remaining Camper 4: But don’t walk too slowly, either – it’ll seem like we’re overconfident and deserve everything we get.

Remaining Camper 1: All right!  Let’s just go before this starts feeling like a bad idea.

(The Remaining Campers walk out of the camp and reach the nearby town safely)

Serial Killer: (Bursts into the clearing 10 minutes after they left) Got ya! – oh, they just walked out of here didn’t they.

 Scenario 3: Worldwide zombie uprising

(In a house where a couple of survivors are holed up)

Survivor 1: I have an idea: remember back in the `60s when people were building those fallout shelters in case the Cold War turned hot-hot-hot?

Survivor 2: Yes, and we all hypocritically laugh at their paranoia – why bring it up, aren’t they all filled in by now?

Survivor 1: Not the one my grandparents built: we figured something’d drive us in there eventually; who’d’ve thought it’d be zombies?

(Survivor 1 and Survivor 2 sneak off to the fallout shelter and seal themselves in while the zombies are occupied with other fodder)

Survivor 1: (Surveys the well-stocked underground house) Whelp, this should keep us for five years.

Survivor 2: And what if whatever disaster this was planned for lasted longer than five years?

Survivor 1: ….

 FIVE YEARS LATER

 Survivor 1: Whelp, by now the afflicted creatures should’ve run out of human brains to sustain them and their misery has permanently ended as they slowly starved to second death – I’m going up top to have a peek.

Survivor 2: And what if they can be sustained with other animals’ brains?

Survivor 1: ....

(Survivor 1 opens the hatch and emerges from the shelter to see a world devastated by floods, fires, eradicated flora and fauna, and the Sun blocked by permanent clouds.  Survivor 1 then sees a lone figure appear ominously nearby)

Zombie: (Points at Survivor 1) Braaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiii –

(Survivor 1 zaps the zombie with a stun gun, jumps back into the shelter, reseals the hatch, and turns to Survivor 2)

Survivor 1: So, wanna watch a movie?

Story 412: The Real Haunted House

 (Friend 1 and Friend 2 park in the overflowing lot at the multi-purpose farm, then head over to the main entrance to stand on the extremely long line for tickets)

Friend 2: (At the sign reading “Line Wait Time: Approx. 40 Minutes”) This place had better be worth the admission price, especially after last year’s debacle.

Friend 1: Hey, we both wanted to do something different then – is it my fault their only employee was an actual werewolf?

Friend 2: Keep your voice down: do you really want everyone here to know about that?

Friend 1: (Whispers) Oh right.  (Back to normal volume) You have to admit though, we were never in any real danger except what we inflicted upon ourselves.

Friend 2: I’d agree, if the place had been more upfront about the whole thing.

Friend 1: Where’s the scary fun in that?

Friend 2: (After a few moments of the line inching up and them staring out at the eerily twilit corn maze, eerily shadowed farmhouse, and eerily distant highway) So, this haunted house is just the usual actors jumping out at us and hidden speakers playing Halloween’s Greatest Hits and impressive decorations and screams all around, right?

Friend 1: (Stares at the farmhouse a bit longer, then turns to Friend 2 distractedly) Huh?

Friend 2: I said, this place just has regular human beings banging the walls and getting up in our faces in a less-than-30-story building, right?

Friend 1: Oh sure, sure.  (Stares at the farmhouse some more) Surrrrre….

Friend 2: (In a flat vice) What aren’t you telling me?

Friend 1: Oh nothing, nothing; this place just caught my eye `cause the ad said it was a “Real” Haunted House – they forgot the quotes around “Real,” though – I was tempted to call the newspaper’s advertising department but then realized it was this place that’d created the ad so they’d have to be the one to fix it and it’d be too late by now so, yeah.

Friend 2: (Staring at Friend 1) I’m going to remind you of this conversation after tonight’s certain disaster.

Friend 1: No need.

(An hour later, an employee leads Friend 1 and Friend 2 into the farmhouse with four other guests.  The employee is dressed as a lazy witch: half a hat, a shawl thrown over a sweater and jeans, and a fake wart threatening to fall off a cheek)

Employee: (Addressing the group inside the farmhouse after closing the front door) All right: this was a working farm in 1840-whatever; you can read all about the soul possession and nightly raves the family here had on the large sign you passed on the way in; follow the glow-in-the-dark arrows on the floors to navigate through the house and exit out the back; don’t touch anything; if you break any of the property you will be recorded on camera and billed starting at $200; I am legally required to remind you that any and all of the ghosts, goblins, ghouls, demons, monsters, trolls, zombies, etc., etc. you may or may not encounter are real due to the current property owner’s securing them for your entertainment, the effort of which is reflected in your ticket price; that purchase indemnifies and holds harmless said owner and all ghosts, goblins, etc., etc... that’s about it, have a spooktacular time, bye.  (Pushes through the group to exit the front door and lock it)

(The farmhouse is suddenly plunged into darkness when all the faint hall lights go out, save for the glowing arrows on the floor leading to a kitchen; a muted cackling is heard through the ceiling directly above their heads, a rattling chain speaks close by, and a neon digital clock on a wall buzzes to life and begins counting down from 30 minutes.  Most of the group pull out their cell phones and activate the flashlight app, illuminating their faces)

Friend 1: So, who’d like to go first?

Friend 2: That sounds like a volunteer.

Guest 1: All that stuff about the ghosts here being real was just a joke, right?  It’s just a bunch of teens and sound effects, right?  Right?!

Guest 2: You are not wimping out on me again this year!

Guest 1: I’m not wimping out!  It’s just sometimes people get carried away at these things – I’m only being sensibly cautious!

Friend 2: Supposedly, this is a really real haunted house.  As in, really-real.

Friend 1: Real is such a subjective term.

Friend 2: Is it?!

(Employee unlocks the front door and leans inside, knocking the half-hat even more askew)

Employee: Clock’s ticking, people, get a move on!

Guest 1: But –

Employee: No refunds!  (Slams the door and locks it again)

Guest 3: Guess that’s that, then: we have no choice but to go forth into the terrifying unknown.

Friend 2: Technically, we always have a choice –

Friend 1: No we don’t!  Onward!  (Leads the way to the sinister kitchen)

(As the group enters the room, there is movement by the low-lit fireplace; approaching, they see several trolls playing cards on the hearth)

Troll 1: King of clubs?

Troll 2: (Checks hand) Go fish.

Troll 3: (Sees the humans) Hi there!  Want us to deal you in?

Group: AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

(They flee the room, making sure to follow the arrows)

Troll 2: (To Troll 3) I keep telling you, don’t bother being friendly to them, they simply don’t appreciate it.

Troll 3: Can’t help myself.

(The humans run across the hallway to a family room, where cursed children are playing marbles and destroying the furniture)

Cursed Children: No grown-ups!  No curfew!  No rules!  Wheee!!!

Group (Except for Guest 4): AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Guest 4: What a bunch of brats!

(The cursed children simultaneously stop, turn to stare at the guests, and open their mouths)

Cursed Children: Waaaaahhhh!!!!

Friend 1: Oh no, crying children, my worst nightmare!

(The group run out of the room and are stymied by the arrows pointing in two directions, one set up the staircase and one set toward the open basement door)

Friend 1: Wanna split up?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  We’ll never be seen again!

Friend 1: How about we do the basement first and upstairs after?

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!  I don’t even do regular basements!

Guest 2: Wimp!

(Ominous banging and moans are heard from below)

Friend 1: Maybe we should take a vote.

Guest 1: Are you kidding?!

(A nearby speaker on the wall crackles)

Speaker: Keep moving, folks!  Don’t make us come in there and kick you all out!

Guest 3: Was that a ghost?

Guest 4: Nah, probably just the lazy witch again.

Friend 1: Executive decision!  (Runs full speed ahead down the basement stairs while the others stand and stare; within a minute, Friend 1 runs back up the stairs and slams the door shut, out of breath with an ashen face)

Friend 2: What was down there?

Friend 1: Bothing – noring – I mean bothering – let’s go upstairs!  (Runs up the stairs to the second floor)

(After hesitating a moment, the others run upstairs and they all follow the arrows to the master bedroom; upon opening the door, they see several vampires surrounding a pal drinking from a steaming goblet)

Vampires: Chug!  Chug!  Chug!  Chug!

(The group quietly closes the door and proceeds as a clump to the attic stairs)

Friend 1: Maybe the twist’ll be it’s just bats up there.

Friend 2: Not another word out of you.

(They creak up the stairs slowly; at the top, they see a variety of monsters gathered around a table that has a boatload of candles – a decaying ghoul is attempting to blow them all out.  Guest 1 points a shaking hand at an overhead banner that reads “HAPPY 4,287,633,815,990^TH BIRTHDAY!!!!”  After blowing out all the candles, the Birthday Ghoul is given a wrapped present by a banshee)

Birthday Ghoul: Aw, you guys, this really is too much!

Friend 1: (To Friend 2) Think we can ask for a piece of cake?

Friend 2: I doubt it’s meant for our digestive systems.

(Guest 2 is tapped on the shoulder and turns to see a smiling demon)

Demon: Howdy, sinner – you can come with me now.

Guest 2: (Steadily increasing in pitch) Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa – ?????!!!!!!

Guest 1: Oh go on – don’t wimp out on me!

(A human wearing a shirt that reads “SECURITY” bounds up the attic stairs and quickly squirts the demon with a spray bottle that has a cross printed on the label)

Demon: (Wiping face) Ow!  Right in my eye!

Security: No souls here, how many times do we have to tell you?!  (To Guest 2) You all right?

Guest 2: Whaaaaaa – ?!

Security: Good.  (Turns and heads back downstairs) You all have less than five minutes on the clock so exit the farmhouse immediately when you’re back on the first floor.

(The group starts to run downstairs; Friend 1 peaks back into the attic)

Friend 1: Happy Birthday!

Birthday Ghoul: (Waves the unwrapped present, which is a hand-knit shawl) Thank you!

(Friend 2 yanks Friend 1 down the attic stairs, and the group huddles together to run down the main stairs and head to the back door.  Before they reach it, a zombie hand pops up from the broken floorboards in front of them)

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Zombie: (Crawls up out of the floor and stands while brushing off dirt; small limbs also fall off) Am I too late?  Are you all on your way out?  (They nod in terror) Darnit – I snuck away for a quick break after the last group and lost track of the time.  Still, guess it won’t be a total loss.  (Clears throat and straightens up) Brains?

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: (Takes a tally sheet out of a rotting pocket and makes a mark on it) Good, good – at this rate I’ll reach my quota by 11:00.

Group: AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zombie: Oh sorry, you can go now. 

(The zombie steps aside and the group run out the back door, screaming all the way.  A figure suddenly blocks their path and they stop running but continue screaming)

Property Owner: Hiya, folks!  (They stop screaming) Thanks for visiting my Real Haunted House tonight, where everything you came across in there is an ab-so-lutely, 100%, genuine spook, straight from the afterlife! Would you mind taking an exit survey about your experience?  (Guests 1-4 resume screaming and run into the corn maze) Typical reaction.  (To Friend 1 and Friend 2) You two interested?

Friend 1: We get paid for it?

Property Owner: Free admission for another tour through the farmhouse – outhouse included this time.

Friend 2: ABSOLUTELY NOT!

Friend 1: This one’s easily spooked.  (Is faced with grinding teeth)

Property Owner: Maybe I’ll catch you folks later.  (Heads back to a trailer to continue watching the house’s security cameras while eating popcorn and laughing)

Friend 2: (Glaring at Friend 1) How do you keep finding these places?!

Friend 1: (Watching the lazy witch fly a motorized broom artfully across the full moon) Just lucky, I guess.

Story 411: The Vicious Cycle of Sort-of Love

 (The couple-to-be lock eyes across the aisle in the 24-7 convenience store – the fall into love is instantaneous)

Lover 1: Hi.

Lover 2: Hey.

Lover 1: You are the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my entire two decades on this planet.

Lover 2: Same.  Wanna go somewhere and eat food in front of each other?

Lover 1: I thought you’d never ask.

(They go to a local café to drink coffee in front of each other instead)

Lover 2: Just to be clear about this whole thing: I’ve been waiting my entire life for someone who is just like me but not 100% like me so as to be creepy, ya dig?

Lover 1: Completely.  I’ve needed someone to talk to who shares all my interests, is almost-but-not-quite my mirror, and preferably super-hot, and you fit the bill.

Lover 2: As do you.  I could stare into your eyes all day.

Lover 1: (Blushes and looks down) Aw, shucks.  (Looks up again, under intense brows)

Lover 2: Rowwrrrrrr.

Lover 1: And you: your face, your hair, your everything, especially the pheromones I assume you’re secreting that are driving my olfactory receptors bonkers.

Lover 2: That is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard in my entire two decades on this planet.

Barista: (Passing by their table with a mop) Excuse me.  (The other two look up from their unblinking mooning over each other) We’re closing in five minutes.

Lover 1: What’s five minutes when there is a love to last for eternity?

Lover 2: Sighhhh….

Barista: Five minutes for you two to schmaltz on out of here before I call the cops.

Lover 1: Gone. 

(They flee the café, then hold hands while strolling on the sidewalk)

Lover 1: Sooo, now that we’ve gotten through the preliminaries of sitting at the same table for a bit and expressing our deepest, truest emotions of spiritual connection:  my place or yours?

Lover 2: Whichever’s closer; I just need to ask you one thing.

Lover 1: Anything you desire, my heart, my soul, my one and only!

Lover 2: What’s your name?

 ONE YEAR LATER

(In Lover 1 and 2’s shared apartment, Lover 2 is heading to the front door with several suitcases and bags when Lover 1 enters from the bedroom, just waking up and wearing flannel pajamas)

Lover 1: What’s all this?

Lover 2: Our inevitable break-up, of course.

Lover 1: Oh.  I thought we’d have at least another few months – what happened?

Lover 2: The usual: all your habits drive me up the wall, all mine drive you the same, yet we’re so alike that our arguments stretch out into infinity, not to mention our families never saw in us what we saw in each other so they can’t stand the thought of us ever, plus things are starting to heat up with my soulmate at work and we’re obsessed with our newfound love even though we’re both in committed relationships – you know, same old story.

Lover 1: Got it.  Guess I just hoped it would take a few decades of all that before one or both of us finally took the simplest way out.

Lover 2: My last gift to you: I’m removing myself at the exact point where this has become an unsustainable cohabitation model.

Lover 1: Well thanks, I appreciate it.  Take care, `cause I sincerely doubt we’ll ever meet again.

Lover 2: You too.  I’m so glad I’ll be able to think back on all this with fondness instead of revulsion; this’ll also be great material for my upcoming poetry collection.

Lover 1: You write poetry?  (Lover 2 leaves without looking back) Whelp, time to reset.  What’s on TV?

 ONE WEEK LATER

(The couple-to-be lock eyes across the aisle in the 24-7 convenience store – the fall into love is instantaneous)

Lover 1: Hi.

Lover 3: `Sup?

Lover 1: You are the most beautiful –

Lover 3: Yadda-yadda-yadda: take me now!

 SIX MONTHS LATER

(In Lover 1 and 3’s shared apartment, Lover 3 is heading to the front door with several suitcases and bags when Lover 1 enters from the bedroom, just waking up and wearing flannel pajamas)

Lover 1: Time?

Lover 3: Yep.  Figured I’d head out now while we still actually like each other.

Lover 1: Good idea – bye!  (Lover 3 leaves without looking back) Whelp, time to reset.  What’s on TV?

 ONE WEEK LATER

(The couple-to-be lock eyes across the aisle – )

Lover 1: Wait a minute – do I really want to go through all this again?

Lover 4: What’s that?

Lover 1: You’re right: the heart wants what it wants.

Lover 4: Same.  Wanna go somewhere and eat food in front of each other?

Lover 1: I thought you’d never ask.

(They go to the cash register to ring up their purchases)

Store Owner: (To Lover 1) I only say this because you’ve been in my store every night for the past seven years so that makes us practically family: get some respect for yourself and for others before you give yourself away to a stranger to fill some need!  Not to mention how dangerous this behavior is – lucky none of you so far turned out to be serial killers or these dramas would’ve had really unhappy endings.

Lover 1: That sounds right to my brain, but my heart screams “Indulge me!”

Store Owner: I don’t think it’s entirely your heart.

Lover 1: True.  But I have to ask: what precisely are your credentials in dispensing this wisdom, hm?

Store Owner: I’ve been married to the same person for almost 50 years and neither of us have strayed once.

Lover 1: (Eyes widen) Wow.  That’s half a century right there.  How’ve you two survived it?

Store Owner: We actually took the time to get to know and like each other before the whole body-and-soul commitment!

Lover 1: (Nods) Uh-huh, uh-huh – and how does one do that, exactly?

Lover 4: (Strolling back to Lover 1 after having wandered the entire store) Wanna head out before the café over here closes in five minutes?

Lover 1: Oh right, yeah.  (Finishes paying for the purchases and leaves with Lover 4; to Store Owner on the way out) Thanks for the advice, What’s-Your-Name!

Store Owner: Unbelievable.  I’m even wearing a name tag!

(Lovers 1 and 4 hold hands while strolling on the sidewalk)

Lover 4: So, before I start resenting everything you do and every sound you make and vice versa, tell me all your favs for me to use as ammunition in later fights.

Lover 1: “Favs”?

Lover 4: Your favorite things: likes, dreams, hobbies?

Lover 1: (As they stop in front of the closing café and the Barista glares at them through the window) Doing the same thing over and over, apparently.

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!