The Boy at the Door

A short play in one act

(Based on actual events)

Scene: A Sunday afternoon. A couple and their young baby sit on the couch in their apartment, reading. There is a knock at the door. The MAN gets up to answer it. He opens the door to find a ten-year-old BOY, slightly stocky and dressed in camouflage pajamas, looking up at him.

MAN: 

Hi there.

BOY: 

Um, uh...

The BOY looks at the MAN, then at the wall, then the floor, then shifts nervously, then looks at the MAN again, then at the wall, figets, looks back at the MAN, figets, is about to say something, hesitates, looks at the floor.

The MAN smiles patiently and says nothing. Then,

MAN: 

What can I do for you?

BOY: 

Um... uh. Um. Um... uh. Are you new here?

MAN: 

Nope.

The BOY looks at the MAN, then at the wall, then the floor, then shifts nervously, then looks at the MAN again, then at the wall, figets, looks back to the MAN, figets, is about to say something, hesitates, looks at the floor. He takes a breath, lets it out, fidgets, looks at the MAN, then the floor, the wall, the floor, the MAN, the wall, figets, is about to say something, stops, looks at the wall.

The MAN smiles patiently and says nothing.

BOY: 

Oh, um... never mind.

The BOY turns and walks away. The MAN closes the door after him and returns to the couch with his WIFE.

WIFE: 

How'd that kid get in the building?

The BABY fusses slightly. There is silence.

Blackout.

Fin.

iFeelings

Not that I feel shamed into writing by a recent commenter (posting funny pictures is NOT a cop-out!), but I notice that if I don't have anything clever to write, I don't write anything at all. Which is why I'm daring myself to write now.

Already, I've slipped into that double-trap I most despise about blogs - writing about writing and writing about one's feelings. Someone once said that the internet has given unprecedented rise to the validity of uneducated opinions. Anyone who spends 4 seconds reading the comment threads of any major (or minor) news story online knows this. Opinions are like, uh, armpits (said the new dad), and as I've always said to myself in the privacy of my own brain: People are idiots.

The best way to stave off idiocy? I say humor. Or mockery or absurdity or, in this case, radio silence. The last one serves me best in the long run, but the silence is inevitably replaced with anger and restlessness and spite. Because it's not that I'm not paying attention to the asinine goings-on of the government/art world/music scene/media, I'm just choosing not to respond. And that's usually fine.

When it's not fine is when I can't seem to joke my way out of it. I know I'm getting older, too, since I'm being more deliberate about my sense of humor. I firmly believe that the heart of comedy is beauty and the heart of beauty is truth (I know, here we go...). Now, you can define "beauty" and "truth" (and "comedy" , for that matter) however you like, but in my mind, they are the holy trinity. If I can truly laugh at something, it is divine.
If something's not funny, well... courtesy laughs are for the weak. And I'm through making dull people feel better about themselves.

Perhaps I haven't had time lately to laugh as much (and how I do so miss 30 Rock). Things aren't bad, just moving at a very different pace with The Baby (the ultimate combination of truth, beauty and humor), so maybe I don't have to go looking for a reason to laugh at the world now. It's right in front of me with a drooly grin and fat little thighs, pulling my heart out slowly through my ribs. No more idle cynicism, I can dial down the toxic language and self-aggrandizing ego campaigns. Babies don't care about elections or wars or economies right now and it's kinda nice living in that world for a change.

So I guess I've been checked out for a bit - which must crush my fours of readers, I'm sure - but rest assured, I'll be back soon at full cleverness, wit and charm. Though I may have gained a little weight. And I may be wearing more Seahawks gear.

Thanks for indulging this moment of introspection. We now return you to your regularly scheduled internet, already in progress.

Area man finds physical copy of Onion

"It's easy when you don't have to type in the 'dot com' part."

Let the iMocking commence

After buying one of these for Ida (you know, just because), I requested and was given one for my birthday.

I admit: 

1. Holy crap. It totally rules, and 
2. I am a gadget whore. There, I said it.
   

I'd also like to formally apologize to all those iPhone owners I mocked for their geekishness. 

  

I now humbly submit to the taunting slings and arrows of both of this blog's readers.

Le Geek, C'est Moi.