Business Transactions

I wrote this vignette to cheer up a friend (who shall remain nameless), and decided it was the perfect piece to publish on a snowstormy November evening.

Constipation is Serious Business

You're sitting across a table from your intestines. Your colon is across from you; to his right is your large intestine; to his left is your anus.

You write a number on a piece of paper, fold it, and slide it across the table. Your colon pauses, then reaches out, slides it the rest of the way toward himself, then opens it, reads it, looks at you, raises one eyebrow, and leans over and shows the paper to the large intestine, who also raises an eyebrow. 

The colon and the large intestine look over to the anus, who doesn't even need to see the paper to give an almost imperceptible shake of the head. Colon refolds the paper and places it on the table. With one finger, he slides it back and forth in front of him in a graceful arc before picking it up one more time. 

Without reading it, he tears it in half and flings it in your face. In unison, your guts stand  up and leave the room.

You sit still, aghast, with nothing to do but pick up the pieces of paper, wait until no one can see you, and exit the washroom.

Worse Things

Sandcat and I were discussing, in disbelief, that Disney had already begun working on the next Star Wars film. That conversation is transcribed below, as is usual with me, more or less faithfully.

"What can it possibly be about?" was the gist of our chat.

"What can it possibly be about?" is a stupid discussion to have with me because I will immediately begin thinking about things it (whatever it is) could possibly be about.

"I hope they hire Harrison Ford and Carrie Fisher and they're all old and stuff," I began.  But for me, beginning is never enough. Ask Sandcat, who has the patience of two St. Lucias.

I continued in a quavering old-man voice. "Leia! Why don't you put that costume on again for me?"

I switched to a quavering old-lady voice. "Go jump in a vat of whatever that was and freeze yourself, Han!"

Old Han voice:  "I shot first once, I can shoot first again!"

By then Sandcat and I were giggling/cackling like morons. Now that I'm typing it out, I wonder if it had more to do with my silly voices and hand motions that my actual dialogue.

"Why don't YOU write the new Star Wars movie?" asked Sandcat. "It will probably be better ..."

I replied, "Do you know if Jar Jar died? I really need Jar Jar ..."

SCENE I

Scene opens with HAN and LEIA, both rather aged, lounging in wicker chairs in their space mansion. HAN wears the same outfit he did in the original movie, only his gut sticks out from underneath. LEIA is wearing a simple dress, head turban, and a giant moissanite ring on her left ring finger. Both also wear wedding rings.

HAN: Remember the good old days when we had an evil empire to defeat and I was the best smuggler in the galaxy with the fastest ship and I remembered what a parsec was? Have you seen my glasses?

LEIA:  Oh yes, the "good old days" [LEIA uses super-exaggerated Chris Farley-style double finger quotes]. The "good old days" when the fashion was the stupidest hairdo imaginable. Oh my lord. The headaches I used to have in the "good old days", when I was a slave to a fat greasy slug who starved me and made me wear a slitted bed sheet.

HAN: Do you still have that?

LEIA: Do you still have that carbonite freezer pit? The times I've wished we'd never thawed you.

HAN: [Sitting up abruptly, knocking over his wicker table with its blue space drink on it, pointing his finger like a gun at LEIA] I SHOT FIRST ONCE I CAN SHOOT FIRST AGAIN! [An ewok and a hunchbacked JAR JAR BINKS rush in to help clean up]

JAR JAR: Mesa clean for Mr Han! Yousa Ewok clumsy! Yousa mop up spill with yousa nappy fur! Mesa favourite of Mr Han! Yousa smell like tree!

LEIA: I wish someone would shoot that thing first.

EWOK: [Gives JAR JAR the finger and goes to hide behind LEIA]

CHEWBACCA: Waaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrr

 END SCENE

SCENE II

Scene opens by panning across a scummy looking space hotel room. Space pilot relics are strewn about untidily. An orange helmet here, R2D2's head there. On the bed lies a young brunette with cinnamon bun hair. Pan to the window, where we see the back of old LUKE, one arm resting on the frame, up above his head, the other on his hip in a slightly feminine manner. Whichever hand his Dad cut off is lying on the bedside table (unless it was reconnected but I think it was a prosthetic, don't ask me, I'm a Trekkie).

BRUNETTE: Hey baby, wanna come into my "death star" again? [she says "death star" like it is a question, unsure of what it is. Likely, she wasn't born when Luke blew it up]

LUKE: No, no. [Turns from window swiftly, head first, too-long hair rippling as he does so] This is so wrong. Put this on. [Tosses her what appears to be a bed sheet]

BRUNETTE: Is this a sheet?

Luke: Sorry, old habits. Find your clothes and get out. JUST GET OUT! [Spins back to the window, EVEN MORE DRAMATICALLY]

END SCENE

SCENE III

DARTH VADER, unmasked, unlegged, connected to an oxygen tank, still wearing his epic black cloak, sits in a wheelchair in front of a TV. He is surrounded by many other very old people. One of them uses DARTH's upturned helmet as an ashtray. Another particularly wizened alien continually mutters "It's a trap. A trap," under his breath.

TV: Planets with only one continent for 500 please.

DARTH VADER: I cannot believe I repented and they put me in a fucking home.

NURSE: Next time sign your DNR, bro.

END SCENE

Magic Earmuffs

A few winters ago, I discovered a pair of gorgeous white-rabbit fur earmuffs at the Bay for some ridiculously low price. Like $30. Certainly below forty. I saw them. I caressed them. I put them on my head, and then I bought them.

They've been my hat-for-when-I-have-a-ponytail-in for the past three years, and I guess today we're starting our fourth winter together. (Happy anniversary, earmuffs!) They're still in lovely condition, partly because after I dropped them in a mud puddle last year, Magpie took them home and cleaned them for me and kept them for about nine months, so that saved some wear and tear.

Today, I wore them for the first time this winter, and I discovered that Magpie's cleaning had unlocked a new power hidden deep within them.

Here's how I know it is a magic power. This is what I looked like:

Only colder.

As you can see, I'm not exactly at my most attractive in my winter coat and earmuffs, bundled against the cold of November. How then, do you explain what happened to me today?

9:00: I'm rushing to work. I am later than I want to be. I still have to cash my paycheque before grabbing my coffee and heading to the office. I cross the street to the Second Cup (yes, the one where once I stood without my keys) and a young man addresses me.

"Excuse me," he says. I lift one of the muffs off one of my ears. I note that he is wearing construction gear, crossed reflective stripes on his vest, a black toque, and that his face shows obvious signs of FASD. "Yes?" I reply. "Are you single?" he asks me.

Taken aback, I pause longer than normal for this sort of question. It's not that I've forgotten Hawk, it's just that I was expecting him to ask for directions or change. "No," I say, and move on.

I told Sandcat about it later on that day, and we both had a chuckle, but neither of us suspected it had anything to do with me. Now, I still don't think it's me, but I do think it's the earmuffs.

Why the earmuffs?

Well obviously because it happened again with a different guy this evening!

Hawk is heading out on a mandate tonight with Mr. Crow so I decided to stop at Oodle Noodle for supper. 

17:30: I pause for a red light. A young man pauses beside me. He glances at me, away, back, then says he is new in town and begins to ask about the neighbourhood.

So, we do a walk and talk until he pops into Wener's shoes which had been recommended to him: but not before pausing outside, introducing himself as Rider, and shaking my hand.

Remember what I looked like?

Except colder.

Thank you, magic earmuffs, for making me attractive to men NOW THAT I'M STUCK WITH HAWK.

Did someone say stuck? LOVESIES!!