Tag Archives: funny

The Dysfunctional Diners

18 May

Sometimes at work, I like to wait on dysfunctional families. And when I say “I like to wait on dysfunctional families” what I mean is “I really hate waiting on dysfunctional families in most circumstances, but when it is literally SO SLOW that I’m lucky to make 35 dollars, I like waiting on dysfunctional families because it gives me a source of entertainment.” Yesterday was one such day.

Outside of the bar area of the steakhouse, there is this little antique phone hanging on the wall above two chairs and a small cocktail table. Most people walk by the phone and don’t even acknowledge its existence. Sometimes people will say “Oh what a cute little phone!” and that’s the end of it. And then sometimes, but ONLY sometimes, will a family of four walk into the bar, only to have the younger of the two sons break away and say, “LOOK AT THAT PHONE MOM! ITS ANCIENT!” and the mom will screech and get out her iPad to take a photo of the kid climbing onto the chairs and putting his shoes on the table just to reach the phone, yank it off of the wall, and take a picture.

Already I knew… this was it. This family was going to be my source of entertainment for the night.

Now in order to fully let you understand what I was dealing with, I need to describe these people.

Over-Worked Father: Dressed in an Ohio State T-shirt with a receding hairline and a forehead that looked like it was made of turtle skin. (Tight, yet very wrinkly and malleable.) He looked like he had been forced to listen to the My Little Pony theme song (the 80’s version, not today’s version) on repeat for six years prior to entering this upscale steakhouse. He looked angry. He looked aggressive. He looked defeated.
Enabling Mother: Wearing a t-shirt covered by what I could only imagine was a jacket made from llama shavings. She had puffy blonde hair, but her inch-and-a-half roots were black and growing out. She was not excited to be in the steakhouse. She reminded me of the mom on American Beauty…. smiling, trying desperately to keep everyone together when everyone would much rather be three states apart in each direction. Seeing her smile actually made me sad.
Satan: Satan is the older of the two brothers. Wearing swim trunks and a gray t shirt, Satan literally did not smile ONCE in the two hours he was seated at this steakhouse. Literally, Not. Once.
Sid: I have named the younger of the brothers Sid because he literally was Sid from Toy Story.

Sid-toy-story

Literally. This face. That voice.

So after Sid climbs onto the cocktail table to violently claim the antique phone, and after Enabling Mother takes the picture, the four of them sit down at a table. Already I can hear the muffled anger coming from their direction. Satan throwing his arms into the air and violently sighing, pushing so much air out of his lungs that Enabling Mother’s fluffy hair actually billows a bit from sitting across from him.

My coworker Lucas looks at the table, then looks at me.

Lucas: Have fun.
Me: Jesus take the wheel.

I grab four beverage napkins, and approach the table. I start to give myself a pep talk… I am smiling! I am happy! Maybe I can help this family stop fighting and make their meal really awesome, so they’ll leave happier than when they came in! I am an amazing employee and I can do this! There is a reason our company calls their employees “Stars!” AND I AM THAT REASON!!!

I inhale to greet them, and-
Enabling Mother: Will you two just SIT DOWN?
Satan: (Speak-yelling at Over-Worked Father in such a disrespectful tone I was surprised that no one physically assaulted him) YOU TOLD ME I COULDN’T BRING MY HEADPHONES TO DINNER AND NOW HE HAS HIS! (motions to Sid)
Sid: (Headphones in, playing a game on his smartphone that is larger and more high tech than my own phone. He is 8. He is not only completely unaware of this conversation, but also of me standing there beside him, beaming.)
Over-Worked Father: What were you going to use them for, anyway? Hm?
Satan: I ALREADY TOLD YOU. I was gonna watch YOUTUBE VIDEOS.
Over-Worked Father: And you? (looks at Sid) Hey!
Sid:
Over-Worked Father: HEY!
Sid:
Over-Worked Father: (gestures) SID!
Sid: (Looks up only because Over-Worked Father waved his arms)
Over-Worked Father: SID WHAT ARE YOU USING THE HEADPHONES FOR!?
Sid: (Takes out one, ONE, of the ear buds. He sighs.) I’m playing a game. DOY!
(Heightened silence while Over-Worked Father seems to be deciding which sound he hates more. Game VS YouTube. Finally he looks at Sid with eyebrows raised.)
Over-Worked Father: Sid? (As if to say… C’mon, Give your brother the headphones.)
Sid: (Already has the earbud back in and is playing his game. He is unaware of everything.)

Keep in mind I am STILL standing at the table, smiling, just watching all of this. Beaming. Smiling like this is the sweetest conversation I have ever heard in my entire life, as if this earbud saga is the most heartwarming tale of selfless love to ever touch my little cocktail waitress heart.

Enabling Mother: (Looks up at me with a huge smile.) Well… We aren’t spoiled, ARE WE? Ha ha ha HAHA! …Ha… um.

Silence. I am still standing there smiling, waiting to see if there will be ay other protests or interruptions before I speak. There are none.

Me: SO! How IS everyone today? Just wonderful? Fantastic! My name is Carolyn and I’ll be serving you today!
Family: Blank stares from everyone except for Sid, who is playing his game and not looking at anyone. Satan is giving me a look of pure evil and hatred.
Satan: FINE! Well I’M JUST GOING TO WATCH YOUTUBE AND YOU ARE JUST GOING TO HAVE TO LISTEN TO IT!!!!!!!
Enabling mother puts her hands over her eyes. Over-Worked Father stares at a crumb on the floor.
Me: GREAT! May I start you all off with something to drink? Maybe some beer? (I shoot this at Over-Worked Father. He looks at me like I am his only key to salvation.)
Over-Worked Father: I’ll take a Sam Adams.
Enabling Mother: I need wine. A nice, dry red wine.
Me: But of course. And for you sir? (Talking to Satan)
Satan still has his arms crossed and is giving me the look of poison.
Me: MAYBE A KIDDIE COCKTAIL!!!
Satan: (Jaw drops to reveal uneven bottom teeth.)
Enabling Mother: Just a round of waters for them.
Me: Of course! I’ll be right back!

I can’t handle this. I can’t do it. I have never wanted to punch a child so much in my entire life. If I go back over to that table and Satan is still giving me that look, I will be FORCED to asked if there is ANYTHING I can do to make his dining experience more to his liking… I will ask him why he is so angry, and I WILL do it with a smile, and I WILL do everything in my power to make him stop looking like such a miserable little garbage can.

I deliver the waters, making sure to smile at Satan the entire time.
Me: So, does anyone have any questions about the menu?
Silence. Dead, still, silence. For a moment I wonder if I’m invisible. I wonder if I actually asked the question out loud, or if I just thought I did… Maybe I’M the awkward one here, just showing up to their table not saying anything at all…
Over-Worked Father: (To Satan) NO, actually I am POSITIVE that a potato is a vegetable.
Satan: NO IT ISN’T. A POTATO IS NOT A VEGETABLE.
Over-Worked Father: Yes. It is.
Satan: NO. It ISN’T.
Enabling Mother: It’s a starch.
Satan: SEE DAD? SEE DAD I TOLD YOU A POTATO IS NOT A VEGETABLE.
(Over-Worked Father looks at his wife as if she is literally the dumbest person in the world. In just one look, I can tell that he is so disgusted at how his life has played out- that he has actually CHOSEN this woman to be his life partner, that he CHOSE to procreate with her above literally EVERYONE ELSE in the whole world, that his next words erupt from his mouth with such resentment and hatred I’m afraid the next topic of conversation will be custody rights. Custody Rights where both parents fight about who HAS to keep them.)
Over-Worked Father: Just because it is a starch doesn’t mean it isn’t a vegetable.
Me: (Beaming!)
Enabling Mother: Whatever. Either way, you need to eat healthier.
Over-Worked Father: I am on vacation, I will eat however I please.
Enabling Mother: (Finishing a gulp of wine) Oh, you’re on vacation? You’re at a work function. Please.

I actually witness Over-Worked Father picking and choosing his battles. He looks at the menu. And I am still standing there, waiting for someone to answer my question.

Over-Worked Father: Satan? What do you want to eat?
Satan: I already TOLD YOU, I want WINGS.
Over-Worked Father: (Death stare. I suddenly realize where Satan has learned his facial expressions.) They don’t have those here. Get the kids fillet. It’ll be the best thing you ever eat.
Satan: I don’t WANT IT.
Enabling Mother: Okay, you know what? They don’t have wings! Okay, fine, nothing. He will have nothing. I am going to have the french onion soup and the wedge salad.
Me: Very good!
Enabling Mother: Sid?
Sid: (Playing his game)
Me: (Beaming at Sid)
Enabling Mother: (Punches him on the arm.) HEY! Mac n’ cheese?
Sid: (Barely responds. I think I may have heard him say “Mm.”)
Enabling Mother: Mac N’ Cheese for him.
Over-Worked Father: I am going to have the Salmon. GOD I’m at a steakhouse and I’m getting SALMON.
Me: Actually our salmon is phenomenal. You won’t be disappointed.
Enabling Mother: (Ignoring me) Make sure you ask for the lentils on the side. I won’t eat those.
Over-Worked Father: Whatever, they’re big. I’ll move them away, it’s not a big deal.
Me: (Thinking “Our lentils are actually tiny, but I’m not going to say that for fear of getting stabbed.”)
Enabling Mother: (suddenly sweeter than ever) Satan? Honey, are you’re sure you don’t want anything?
Satan: (Stares at her. Pouting. Mutters-) …Ids Illay.
Enabling Mother: What was that!?
Satan: (Yelling) KIDS FILLET.
Me: (Looking directly at Satan himself) And how would you like that prepared, young sir?!?!
Satan: (Pure evil. Poison is leaking from his eyes.)
Enabling Mother: Medium well.
Me: Fantastic! I’ll get that right in for you, and I’ll also bring some fresh bread and butter for the table.
SID: YUUUUUUMMMMMMM!!!!!
Me: (Wanting desperately to say “Wait- you can hear me! You can SEE me!?” I walk away.)

When I bring the bread to the table, Sid hulks out. He RIPS the earbuds out of his head and lunges for the bread, as if he hasn’t eaten in six weeks. With every inhale it sounds like he’s slurping something- which is quite a miraculous feat because he is ingesting BREAD, and with every exhale there is an audible vocalization of “Mmmm.” It’s a rather disturbing cycle, but no one addresses it. Meanwhile, Satan is sitting in his chair like a frog. The bottoms of his shoes are actually on the seat of the chair, and any time he wants to drink his water, he literally springs up, puts his hands on the table, and bends over to put his mouth on the straw… instead of just picking up the glass and bringing it to his mouth like any other normal person on the planet. No one addresses this either.

When their food finally does come, I watch intently to see what happens. I watch to see if Satan does, indeed, like his KIDS FILLET. He does. Obviously, you’re gonna like the kids fillet, you ungrateful, unwanted, rat-faced collection of disappointments and broken dreams. You’re at one of the best steakhouses in Orlando and you’re eating a 5 oz fillet! And even if it IS prepared medium well, thanks to your insane to the membrane mother, it’s going to be the best thing you eat all week.

So, that’s basically the end of the story. Once the food came everyone kind of shut up and ate, and the only thing that was semi-amusing about them at this point was when Sid grabbed the black dish that held their side item, and screamed, in the EXACT voice of Sid from Toy Story, “IS THIS MADE OUT OF IRON????” Over-Worked Father tipped 20 percent and they all decided to GTFO. I think he was appreciative that I didn’t announce that we had dessert options… instead, I discreetly handed him the dessert menu out of view of his spawn and said, quietly, “In case you’re interested…”

It’s sad, but I’ve come to realize the importance of alcohol mixed with some good food when it comes to dysfunctional families. Usually by the end of the meal I can have people laughing and actually interacting with each other without arguing anymore. And yet, with this family, I was just happy that no one got slapped… by me. I hope the rest of their business trip/vacation(???) fared better than that atrocious meal, but I won’t hold my breath. I bet Sid is still sitting somewhere right now playing his game and slurp-breathing, and Satan is watching YouTube with that disgusted look on his face, Enabling Mother is looking through a magazine at the body and life she’ll never have, and Over-Worked Father is answering emails and wondering where his life went wrong. It’s really sad to think about these families like this once they’re gone, so I try not to. I just bring them their check, and hope for the best. I have to pay my bills, you know.

Why I Never Completed My Creative Writing Minor

11 Oct

I went to college hoping to complete a bachelor of fine arts in musical theatre with a minor in creative writing. After my first year, I realized that I would not complete college in 4 years if I wanted to complete my minor. I was NOT about to call home and tell my parents they would be paying for an extra year of out of state tuition, and so, in a moment of weakness, I dropped the minor.

Scary Honors Advisor Woman: Do you want to drop your minor?
Me: (weakly) …Yes…?
Scary Honors Advisor Woman: (CLICK CLICK CLICK) It is done.

I spent a miserable year writing angst-y poetry in my dorm room in between the magical hours of 1 am and 3 am because I couldn’t write in any of my theatre classes. 34 angst-ridden poems and one year later, and I had had it. I NEEDED to write. I could no longer deny myself the structured effects that a classroom had on my written words. I HAD TO GET MYSELF BACK INTO THE MINOR.

And so, on a dreary Friday morning, I woke up at 7:30 am  I was going to go into my advisor’s office and DEMAND that she reverse whatever dreadful buttons she had pressed on that fateful day exactly one year ago. The sky was dark and gray, and I couldn’t find my rain boots. It’s alright, I thought. I’ll walk quickly and get to the Honors office before it rains.

I grabbed my book bag and briskly walked outside. I hoped to get to the office, proclaim my major again, and maybe even grab a bagel at the Atrium before my first class at 9:00. Everything was going according to plan. I was even starting to fantasize about the screen writing class available next semester. Then, suddenly, and without warning, a purple Volkswagon full of what appeared to be Mormons pulled up beside me.

Questionable Mormon #1: (leaning out of the window) Hey! Do you need a ride? It’s going to storm soon, you’ll never get to where you’re going in time!
Questionable Mormon #2: Yeah! Come on in!
Me: Um… Well…
Questionable Mormon #1: Just get in!
(A crack of thunder rolls in the distance.)

My first grade education was screaming at me: DO NOT GET IN CARS WITH STRANGERS, EVEN IF THEY APPEAR TO BE FRIENDLY MORMONS. But the thunder rolled again, and this time it was followed by a purple pitchfork of lightning.

Me: Well… alright…

I waited awkwardly for Questionable Mormon #2 to get out of the passenger’s seat so I could climb into the back seat. I muttered, “Ooh, um, thanks…” as I climbed in.

Questionable Mormon #1: (pressing on the gas just a little too hard) So! Um, where are you headed?
Me: The Honor’s college please. This is so weird, haha… thank you for picking me up! I really probably wouldn’t have made it…
Questionable Mormon #2: Well, we’re not headed in that direction, are we?
Questionable Mormon #1: No! No we’re not…
Me: Oh… well, um-
Questionable Mormon #1: You see, stranger… uh, what’s your name?
Me: Carolyn?
Questionable Mormon #1: You see, Carolyn, we were actually hoping you could help us out with something…
(The car suddenly turns down a dark alley, towards the Downtown section of my college town… The complete OPPOSITE direction of the campus. The sky has suddenly become black, and a few raindrops scatter on the windshield.)
Me: Um… you two wouldn’t happen to be Mormons, would you?
(There is a stunned silence in the car. Then-)
Both: BAAA HAHAHAHAHAHA!!!
Questionable Mormon #1: No, no, Carolyn!
Questionable Mormon #2: No! We certainly are NOT Mormons!
Both: BAA HHAHAHAAHAHA!!!!
Me: Oh… so, then… um, where are we going? And why aren’t you taking me towards campus?
Questionable Mormon #2: You’ll get there soon enough. Don’t you worry about that… no. Don’t you… worry your pretty little face.

Suddenly, the car lurched to a halt. I hit my head on the seat in front of me, and heard Questionable Mormon #2 hit his head on the dashboard.

Questionable Mormon #2: What the HELL!?!?!?!?!
Questionable Mormon #1: There was a cat!
Questionable Mormon #2: ARE YOU EFFING KIDDING ME!?!?!
Questionable Mormon#1: WELL I COULDN’T JUST HIT IT!
Questionable Mormon #2: And THIS is why you never drive! Oh, poor me, I never get to drive, he says. Let ME drive this time, just this once! He says. And do you SEE what happens! (He turns around and looks at me) DO YOU SEE WHAT I HAVE TO PUT UP WITH!?
Questionable Mormon #1: I’m sorry!
Questionable Mormon #2: No. No, you know what? Stop the car.
Questionable Mormon #1: What?
Questionable Mormon #2: YOU HEARD ME! STOP THIS CAR! You just lost your driving privileges.
Questionable Mormon #1: Whaaaat!?!?
Questionable Mormon #2: FOR THE WEEK! Do NOT make me remind you what happened last time. Remember the mayonnaise? Do you? The mayo?

The car lurched to a halt, and Questionable Mormon #1 actually became a bit teary.

Questionable Mormon #1: (Very pointed.) I thought. We agreed. To never talk. About that.
Questionable Mormon #2: Get out.

Without another moment’s hesitation, both Questionable Mormons opened their doors and started to do the slowest Chinese fire drill I’ve ever seen. It was now or never. I grabbed my book bag and exploded out of the passenger’s side, sprinting as fast as I could through the rain. I didn’t stop. I didn’t think. All I knew was that I needed to get as far away from the Mormons as possible. I heard a muffled scream from behind me, something that sounded like “Hey! Hey wait! She’s getting away!!!” and then the scuffling sound of a body falling to the street. I didn’t look back. I ducked into an ally, cut across a side street, and kept running towards campus. The rain was falling in sheets, the wind was blowing so forcefully I could barely breathe against it, and still, I managed to keep running…. That may have been the creepiest and most absurd thing to ever happen to me, but I had escaped! Not only that, but I knew if I didn’t hurry now, I’d never be able to grab a bagel in the Atrium before my 9 am.

I ran for as long as I could, but I soon had to start walking. It was no use. I was out of shape. I KNEW I should have made going to the gym a bigger priority, but I was so busy with rehearsals and term papers and projects and-

Homeless Rodeo Clown: Hey! Hey you!
Me: Excuse me?
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Yeah! You!
Me: I’m sorry, I really can’t talk, I-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: It’ll only take a second. Look, I’m in a bit of a jam.
Me: I’m sorry, but I’ve already been through so much this morning, and it’s not even 10 o’ clock, I really can’t-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Wanna make fifty bucks?
Me: … I’m listening.
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Look. I’m gonna level with you. I’m as broke… as an old fence post in December!!!!
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: … Get it?
Me: …No. Not really.
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Aw shoot. Okay. It’s because there’s a lot of snow in December? So, if a lot of snow gets on an old fence post, it’ll probably break, right? Right!?!?
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: What aboouuutt… I’m as broke… AS A PC!?!?!
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: You have a mac, right? PC’s are shit.
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: They’re always breaking? Always getting viruses? VIRUSES. THAT’S IT! Here, look, listen to this…. I’m sick, I’m REAL sick, I’m as sick as… A PC!!!!
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Ya get it!? Viruses!? It’s a play on words, because PC’s well, they’re always coming down with…. Alright, well, never mind. Anyway!!! Look, the POINT IS! I’m a clown.
Me: Yeah… I can see that. You’re dressed in clown pants and you have a red nose.
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Yeah it squeaks too, look watch! (He squeezes his nose)
Nose: SQUEAK SQUEAK!
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Yeah. So look. I’ve been doing the clown gig for a few years now, you know, the usual clown stuff, birthday parties… Craft fairs… birthday parties… the occasional funeral…!!!
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: … You get it? Funeral?!
Me: …What?
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Okay, okay never mind. Look. I’m trying to get into the stand up scene. You know how they have stand up comedians in the bars in the Village sometimes?
Me: Yeaaah…
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Well look. I’m trying to, you know, sort of try my luck at some stand up sometime. What do you think?
Me: What do you mean, what do I think? Look, I have somewhere to be-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: (Grabbing my soaking wet shirt and pulling my face close to his) DO YOU THINK I WOULD BE A SUCCESSFUL COMEDIAN AFTER TALKING WITH ME RIGHT NOW!?!?!?!
Me: Um, yeah… sure! Please let go.
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Really!?
Me: Yeah, now let me go!
(He lets go.)
Homeless Rodeo Clown: Hey.. hey thanks a lot! You know, that really just means a lot, coming from you.
Me: What? You don’t even know-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: ITS JUST SO HARD SOMETIMES!!!!!
(He falls to the ground and starts rubbing off his already smearing make up on the side of a wet piece of cardboard.)
Me: Aw, come on now… don’t do that…
Homeless Rodeo Clown: DO YOU THINK I LIKE BEING A CLOWN FOR A LIVING!?!?!
Me: Well, I-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: DO YOU THINK I ENJOY BEING THE BUTT OF EVERYONE’S JOKES!?!?!
Me: I’m sure that has to be-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: DO YOU KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO HAVE A SIX YEAR OLD TELL YOU THAT YOU’RE A FAILURE?!?! DO YOU!?!?!
Me: No, I’ve-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: BECAUSE I DO!!!! He was SIX!
Me: Hey, look, I’m sorry, but-
Homeless Rodeo Clown: He looked me dead in the eye and said, “I feel funny around you” and I said “Good funny?” and he said “No” and I said “like ha-ha funny?” and he said “no” and I said “like the funny clown made you LAUGH funny!?!” and HE said “No. I feel embarrassed for you.”
Me:
Homeless Rodeo Clown: HE WAS SIX!
Me: Are you going to tell me how to make fifty bucks or not?
Homeless Rodeo Clown: … What?
Me: Never mind.

I continued down the street, ignoring his calls and cries of protest. I HAD to get to the Honors college. I HAD to proclaim my creative writing minor again. I HAD to get to my 9 am class. These were the things I needed to do. I kept walking through the rain, which had thankfully begun to slow. It was now just a light drizzle. The rest of my walk was relatively uneventful. That is, until-

Helicopter wings: TUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUT!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: YOU THERE! HALT!
Me: What the-
MEGAPHONE VOICE: WE’VE GOT YOU SURROUNDED! PUT. THE BAG. DOWN!
Me: What in the-
MEGAPHONE VOICE: I REPEAT! PUT THE BAG DOWN, AND PUT YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD.
Me: Oh my God!
(I immediately put the bag down, and put my hands on my head.)
Me: (Yelling up to the helicopter) You’ve got the wrong girl!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: WHAT?
Me: YOU’VE GOT THE WRONG GIRL!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: …NO WE DON’T.
Me: Yes you do!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: NO WE DO NOT.
Me: But I haven’t DONE anything! I’m just trying to get to the Honors college!!!
Helicopter Wings: TUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUTTUT!!!!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: WHAaaaaAAAAT!?
Me: I! AM! INNOCENT! I NEED TO GET TO AN APPOINTMENT!
MEGAPHONE VOICE: DO NOT MOVE! WE HAVE YOU SURROUNDED!

Suddenly, and entire fleet of police men cornered me with AK47’s. They all started screaming orders at me, and a tank rolled out from behind a building.

Me: HOLY-
POLICEMEN: STAND UP PUT YOUR HANDS UP GET DOWN ROLL OVER STAND STILL MOVE TO THE LEFT NO YOUR OTHER LEFT STOP DROP AND ROLL SHAKE RATTLE AND ROLL DO THE MACCARANA NOW EVERYBODY TOGETHER LEFT RIGHT LEFT AGAIN HANDS UP RIGHT HAND IN LEFT HAND OUT SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT!!!!
ME: I DON’T KNOW WHY ANY OF THIS IS HAPPENING!!!!! I JUST WANT TO PROCLAIM A CREATIVE WRITING MAJOR BEFORE MY FIRST CLASS!!!
HELICOPTER VOICE: WERE YOU OR WERE YOU NOT WITH TWO MEN IN SUITS THIS MORNING IN A VOLKSWAGEN BUG!?
Me: For the love of all things-
HELICOPTER VOICE: ANSWER MY QUESTION!
Me: Yes, but I don’t even know-
POLICEMEN: STAND STILL!  DROP DOWN! SHAKE YOUR TAIL FEATHER!
Helicopter Wings: TUTTUTTTUTTUTTUTTTUTTTUTTUTTTUTTU!!!!
HELICOPTER VOICE: WHAAAAAAAT???
Me: I DON’T EVEN KNOW WHO THEY ARE!!!!

Then the police men cornered me, grabbed my book bag, and searched me. Suddenly, they extracted a wad of cash.

Me: Hey… that’s not mine!

They then proceeded to count it. Fifty dollars, exactly.

Me: Okay, look, I know this may sound weird, but there was this clown earlier and he told me I could make fifty-

Then, out of no where, the Homeless Rodeo Clown jumped out of the helicopter, did a quadruple pirouette in midair, and landed in a perfect passe. He pointed in my face. His red nose was on the tip of his pointing finger.

Homeless Rodeo Clown: BAAA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAH!!!!!

THEN! The MORMONS CAME OUT FROM AROUND A CORNER AND STARTED THROWING PAPER PLANES AT ME AND SCREAMING THE DIFFERENT NAMES OF HOUSEHOLD APPLIANCES!

AND THEN! A CAT ARMY STARTED SCREAMING IN THE DISTANCE AND IT STARTED SNOWING AND A MAIL MAN DELIVERED A PACKAGE TO ME AND I SIGNED FOR IT AND I OPENED IT AND IT WAS A DIPLOMA SAYING THAT I WOULD NEVER GRADUATE WITH HONORS, A BFA, AND A MINOR IN CREATIVE WRITING! SO I STARTED TO CRY AND THE MORMONS POINTED AND LAUGHED AND IT BEGAN TO RAIN MAYONNAISE AND THEN THE MORMONS SCREAMED AND RAN AND THEIR SKIN DISSOLVED AND I GREW A BABY ARM AND THEN THE CAT ARMY ALL TURNED INTO BEAVERS AND SLOTHS AND THEN-

I woke up. And I was late for my 9 am. And I decided I would be better off not doing a minor in creative writing.

The end.

An Easy Choice. Kind Of.

23 Sep

Day 13 of the 90 in 90 blog challenge.

(Close up of WOMAN’s anguished face.)
WOMAN: Are you feeling… tired? Worthless? Do you feel like there is no reason to live? No reason to breathe? No reason to… do your laundry?
(Shot of a housewife picking up a pair of pants out of the washer. Suddenly, she drops them mid-transfer to the dryer. She covers her face in shame.)
WOMAN: Studies show that 23 out of 36.4 Americans have trouble figuring out what to do with their lives at some point in time during their lives. Life is confusing and hard, and everyone is suffering.
(Shots of various people dropping laundry, cleaning supplies, and briefcases. They all cover their faces in shame.)
WOMAN: But now! You don’t have to suffer anymore. Now? There is Lunatylemidonolozoft.
(The various people uncover their faces and look up towards a growing, warm
light.)

WOMAN: Lunatylemidonolozoft is a drug. It has been clinically proven to treat some problems of some people, some of the time.
(A business man bends down and picks up his briefcase.)
WOMAN: It has been clinically approved by a group of men who wear perfectly ironed shirts and have name plates on their desks in their offices. They also sometimes floss after brushing.
(A father helps his daughter ride a 2 wheeled bike for the first time.)
WOMAN: Lunatylemidonolozoft is not for everyone. (A college student places a notebook in their backpack at the conclusion of a lecture.) People who fall asleep easily or enjoy eating at Subway should not take Lunatylemidonolozoft. (An Australian Shepperd catches a frisbee.) Side effects include, but are not limited to, headaches, dizziness, nausea, substantial weight gain, arm pit irritation, explosive acne, arthritis, unfortunately timed flatulence, constipation, complete nervous system failure, and a sudden unexplained fear of elevators. These side effects have only affected people who have taken Lunatylemidonolozoft for three consecutive days or more. (A mother watches proudly while her daughter brings a casserole dish to the table.) In rare cases, people have reported vomiting blood, losing their voice, and growing skin tags under their tongues in the shapes of European countries. These claims have yet to be proven. (A man opens a jar of mayonnaise for his wife.)  Do not take Lunatylemidonolozoft if you are pregnant, nursing, hoping to become pregnant, have been kind of pregnant once or maybe twice, planning on becoming pregnant next Wednesday, or are currently holding a baby. (Close up of a hand signing “Happy 1st Birthday! Love, Grandpa.”) Sexual problems including a lowered sex drive, erectile dysfunction, left breast loss, or just the complete inability to have an orgasm, ever, are common but reversible, maybe. (A construction worker stops his jack hammer, wipes his brow, and smiles at the sun.)
WOMAN: Just listen to these testimonies!

REBEL TEENAGER: (Blank stare.) I used to feel like nothing mattered and I felt worthless. Now, with Lunatylemidonolozoft, I don’t feel anything…. (Beat.)  It’s awesome.

DENTIST: I was having trouble getting out of bed. I was letting my patients down, my wife down, but worst of all, I was letting myself down. Now, with Lunatylemidonolozoft, I feel like a computer. And I still let my wife down.

HOUSEWIFE: (Tongue swollen with skin tags) Thewfs uh gud chanths I won geh bettah.

PREGNANT WOMAN: (Popping a pill while absentmindedly rubbing her belly. Then, she notices the camera. Wide, guilty pupils.) … Oops.

WOMAN: (strolling through a field of wildflowers, letting a chiffon scarf billow behind her.) So talk to your doctor to see if Lunatylemidonolozoft is right for you. You don’t have to be sad and confused about your life! You don’t have to feel worthless! You can start to get your normal life back. It starts… with Lunatylemidonolozoft.
(Close up of the Lunatylemidonolozoft bottle)
WOMAN: (Voice Over) Lunatylemidonolozoft;
An easy choice. Kind of.