"So, that's it?" (fiction)

Some might say this sketch is the product of a sick mind.  Actually, this one was two sick minds--a combined effort for a fiction class exercise.  Collaborating with another writer can make unexpected things happen and get you unstuck.

"So, that's it?" Her eyes were eager, but her tone was reproachful.

"Yes." The doctor was ashamed that the goal of triplets was not reached after the third try and three sets of twins.

"Nothing more?" Her hands stretched out, palms up, demanding.

"No.  I don't think so.  That's really it." He avoided her gaze, trying to sound dismissive and firm.  He hated to disappoint his patients.

"So that's it?" she said again harder, as if to give him another chance to give her the answer she wanted.

"I'm afraid so. I'm sorry the results weren't what you were hoping for." He writhed.

"This is the third time this has happened!"

"Look. This isn't a foolproof procedure.  You've gotten two sets of twins, four beautiful girls. You're going to have another two.  Most people would be happy.  No, wait, most people would have been freaked out!  Why do you insist on triplets?"

"Of course I'm happy!  I love all my girls more than the world. They were just supposed to turn out.. a certain way."

"Things don't always turn out the way we want. Were they supposed to be blue-eyed and red-headed too?"

"No, nothing like that. I just... I always wanted to be one of triplets.  I want to give that gift to my children."

"I'm sorry, I don't quite understand; twins and triplets are very similar.  What's so special about triplets?" the doctor asked, moving toward his desk.  He picked up the phone and dialed security.

The pool drain (fiction)

"Mrs. Elsley, I'm calling about your daughter.  She's in a lot of trouble, and she has a lot of explaining to do."

"What happened?"

"She pulled the plug in the swimming pool."

"Oh dear.  Did she come up alright?"

"Oh yes, she did, Mrs. Elsley, but now the rest of the school is flooded."

"Goodness!  Did she splash that much?  She's always been a splasher; ever since she was little bathtime has been a rather wet affair.."

"No, Mrs. Elsley, she didn't splash.  It was the unplugged swimming pool."

"I don't see how merely pulling a plug could flood an entire school."

"The pool is on the second floor, Mrs. Elsley."

"Whose smart idea was that?!"

"Disgruntled architect, Mrs. Elsley.  He had it in for the superintendent of the district and somehow convinced her that it was a great idea to have the Olympic-sized swimming pool on the second floor."

"Well, that's asking for trouble, but surely there were pipes to drain the water properly.  Was there a
crack in the bottom of the pool?"

"No, no cracks.  The bottom is in perfect condition."

"I don't understand."

"The fire sprinklers, Mrs. Elsley; the swimming pool's drain leads directly to the fire sprinklers."

"The architect?"
"Uh-huh."
"Oh dear. But why would he..."
"Brilliant idea to save water.  This is Las Vegas, you know."

Glacierview (fiction)

This sketch has certain flaws, but the idea behind it still tickles me.  I like the idea of setting up a ridiculous situation and revealing it piece by piece through bare conversation.

"Glacierview Hotel, can I help you?"

"Um, yes, I wanted to confirm I have a reservation for a room?"

"Which room number was that, do you remember?"

"No, not really; I just assumed you'd remember."

"Well, we have the computer keep track of that. What’s your last name?”

“Paxton.”

“Hmm, the computer says you've vacationed here before."

"Yep, had a great time too."

"And you put in a request a year in advance for the same room that you enjoyed before, correct?"
"I believe so.”

"Unfortunately, Mr. Paxton, that request is impossible to fulfill."

"You gave my reservation away? But I made it so far in advance!"

"No, we didn't exactly give it away.  No.  It was sort of…taken."
"By--"

"The glacier.  You know, Glacierview?  The name of this establishment?"

"Oh yes, that makes sense.  I was wondering why there was a wall of ice and snow just ten feet outside my window then.  My kids loved it, though; they had an indoor snowball fight every day.."

"For which damage you paid most generously."

"Flimsy furnishings, I call it."

"Anyway, that room, in fact that entire wing, has been smeared away by the glacier.  Just last month, it was.  BUT!  We anticipated that and immediately began building the next wing on the side of the hotel furthest from the glacier."

"Wait, hasn't this happened several times before?  I remember reading about it in a news magazine back home.  How many new wings have been added onto the hotel since it was first opened?"

"Oh, about ten."

"Ten?"

"Yeah, our hotel is forced to become a bit of a glacier itself, in order to survive." 

(submitted to ANWA newsletter Sept 2016)

Smaller than a bread box

Incorporating silliness makes it fun to write things.  


“Hi, I’m calling about the space for rent?”

“Space, space… OH, yes, the space for rent.  We have all different kinds of space.  What kind do you need?”

“Just a small space.”

“Smaller than a bread box?”

“Well, I need some elbow room.”

“There’s room enough in a bread box to wiggle one’s elbow.”

“But that’s if I only need the space for my elbow.  No, I need to fit in the space too.”

“How big are you, sir?”

“Smaller than a bread box.”

“ARRRRRRRGG!”

“Just kidding!  Calm down!”