"Ironic"

Dear Diary,

I have been having the strangest day. Murphy’s Law is going to end my life. I am sure of it. I started out as usual reading the newspaper like I did every single day. Nothing but bad news as usual, with a feature about Thomas Grimley, an old man who had just turned ninety-eight, had also won the lottery and died the next day. Of course his entire fortune that he only just acquired went to his mistress Connie. His family was fighting tooth and nail for that money, claiming Connie had conned old Thomas into rewriting his will last minute before he died. After pealing myself out of bed, now in a slump thanks’ to that article. I dragged myself to brunch where my girlfriend’s canceled on me last minute. This was so typical of them. 

Glad I brought the paper with me to keep myself occupied and out of the depths of emotional sorrow being alone, again. I ordered off the brunch menu which was key on a day like this to get unlimited drinks! Finally after an eternity of waiting of my idiot waiter I got my much needed drink. I couldn’t take the stares from everyone around me, the sympathy looks, oh that girl is alone. She got stood up no doubt they were likely whispering to each other.

What the f, something was in my glass. It's a black fly in your Chardonnay that really knows how to ruin a good boozy meal. Do you think the alcohol would kill off whatever diseases that fly was bound to have on it. I hope it didn’t come from Spain. I flicked it out of my glass and it landed in the duster’s dish across from me. That poor old lady had no idea. I wasn’t going to ruin her meal. Besides the alcohol cleansed that bug…

Man this newspaper is such a Debbie downer. I don’t know why I keep reading it. This sad sack finally found justice after 13 years of fighting against the allegations that lead to his being put in jail for something he swore he didn’t do. Apparently the real murder was caught and confessed to everything. It's a death row pardon two minutes too late that really makes this story pull at my heart strings. I mean cheesits, that guy really was innocent, all this time, and the system failed him. And now that same system had to then waste all of that money all over again on the real killer. And isn't it ironic... don't you think, Diary?

I still cannot get over how unseasonably crappy the weather was yesterday. I cannot imagine how devastated Alexandra and Derek must have been and to cram all of us inside the entire time when really the only reason they chose that venue was to have the landscaping and the view of the water.

It's like rain on your wedding day is not at all the good luck mother’s tell their daughters to try to cheer them up when the sky had determined their mate match is doomed. The whole thing was a real disaster. I mean at least we all got bombed. The dj’s equipment was completely ruined so we had to rely on an old radio the owner of the venue dug up. I kept switching it to NPR because really who wants commercials at your own wedding, let alone someone else’s you are forced to go to. I did them a favor!

Forget about all those nasty remarks from the people on the dance floor. Interpretive dance, people!

Everyone can do it. I do it to Ted Talks all the time. Like a fool I followed the instructions on the wedding invitation and booked hotel and transportation immediately. Finding out later that a bunch of my friends had gotten a suite together and carpooled, guess I missed that email chain.

It's a free ride when you've already paid, had they invited me or offered me a ride. They only ever include me when they think my face will get us into some hot new place. It is never when they go to the movies or out doing something interesting. My mother has warned me about people like this ever since I made the decision to be an artist. But really mother, the other people are so less attractive. If I am going to be seen in public it may as well be with these assholes. It's the good advice that you just didn't take, and really my mother is right. Here I am sitting alone drinking dirty champagne at boozy brunch alone.  Who would've thought... it figures.

Speaking of my mother she just emailed me an article about my cousin Doug. He had died! Mr. Play It Safe was afraid to fly, afraid to go on roller coasters, afraid to play with us when we were kids. He was a big mamma’s boy and wanted to stay indoors at all costs. Somehow he managed to land a gorgeous albeit overbearing step ford wife and produce four perfect children. I cannot believe he died. I would have thought he would have outlived us all the way he was. Can you even imagine? I can see it going exactly like this: He packed his suitcase and kissed his kids goodbye. He waited his whole damn life to take that flight. And as the plane crashed down he thought, I knew it! I knew I should have never left my mother. Well isn't this nice...And isn't it ironic... don't you think.

Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you. When you think everything's okay and everything's going right. And life has a funny way of helping you out when you think everything's gone wrong and everything blows up in your face, I mean not for Doug though he literally died. Life did not in fact help him out at all.

I realized this meant that I had to get a ride to go see his family, and I would have to pick my mother up first. She gave me a two hour window to get myself together and go get her. 

I had to call for a car service because there was no way I would be able to drive at this point, no matter how much coffee. I forgot to eat at brunch, again. I did order something at least, I don’t remember what. Ugh just my luck, a traffic jam when you're already late is the worst icing on the cake. It totally drives you crasy but there is really nothing at all you can do about it but stew. So there I am stewing. Whenever I stew I need a cigg. Of course I broke my last one but thought what the hell I can smoke each half and get over it. It isn’t as though the filter really does much anyway. The driver rolled down the divider to point at something.

A no-smoking sign on your cigarette break, you have got to be kidding me. I paid top dollar for this car service. Did he know who I was? It's like ten thousand spoons when all you need is a knife sometimes. If looks could kill. Ugh. Really! Could this day get any worse? It reminded me of my date last week, or what would have been a date, had I gone to the right restaurant. Instead I went to the bar where the guy my friends set me up with told me to meet him. I saw him immediately and he was gorgeous. We hit it off and talked for what felt like hours. Love at first sight!

It's meeting the man of my dreams and then meeting his beautiful wife who was late to meeting him for their regular date night while the sitter was home with their two perfect children of the corn. Her children she just had to show me immediately. I don’t blame her. I was totally hitting on her husband, having had no idea he wasn’t the Pete I was supposed to meet. But his name was also Pete, what are the odds? And isn't it ironic...don't you think. A little too ironic...and, yeah, I really do think... I am coming across super whiny today.

Diary, you are the only one who truly gets me. This entry would make an excellent song. Remind me to try it out at the next open mic.

All my love,

Alanis

Donuts over New Mexico

It was a crisp January 2^nd morning, Newark International Airport was buzzing as usual. The line for Hawaii Flight 8754 was filled with cheery families, newlyweds, and business suits. The tri-state area had just been hit by its 10^th blizzard, the next blizzard was supposed to start within the next four hours. Everyone was anxious to get up in the air and in the clear before the storm canceled these flights, again.

Mary-Ann Schuster a business exec for big oil was supposed to have taken this flight for work six times already. Six times it had been canceled. Six times she had been stuck in the cheap hotel on the same lot as the airport as the snow had made it impossible to go back to her one bedroom high rise in Chelsea.

Mary-Ann hated to fly. She hated to have meetings with greedy wealthier than 99% of the population CEO’s but it was her job. She was good at it. She was the only one who could sweet talk her company’s numbers into fairing the way her bosses wanted. Her bosses, also part of the 1%.  She had landed in this job years ago graduating from Harvard as a human rights and environmental activists majoring in law and civil engineering. She was a rare breed. Mary-Ann went on to get her law degree at Stanford, wanting to be closer to sites that she volunteer canvassing saving the planet, the otters, the whales, the sea lion etc. 

Somehow one day she pushed her way into a media blitz live televised government schmoozing event, which was supposed to speak about the new building that would go underway, and instead became redirected by Mary-Ann to save the endangered blue bonnet nesting pelican, she caught the eye of one Jason Braverman VP of big oil who was there raising capital for a candidate his bosses were marketing for. Jason saw the passion that Mary-Ann had over a weird looking bird and thought what a waste of talent. Jason was a closer. It took him seven hours to close her. She made him work for seven hours before accepting the job she already decided she wanted the moment he offered it to her. Imagine the damage from within she could do if she had access to all of the secrets of big oil.

Jason came running up in line to meet Mary-Ann of course he was in his signature look of his ten thousand dollar dark grey suit with purple accents. Mary-Ann being the secret activist that she was bought all of her clothes from her friend who she went to law school with and decided to make organic business clothes for a living. They clothing looked a little off and was itchy but no slave labor was used in the making of it and no animals were involved and so Mary-Ann wore it happily. She was used to ignoring the public’s complaints and whispers. Mary-Ann was clearly surprised to see Jason and didn’t know what to make of his appearing there. “I am coming with!” He said. And her heart stopped.

Mary-Ann had planned on using this business trip to land in Hawaii and then take off on a cruise ship under a false name to disappear into the Alaskan wilderness. She had been planning this day forever. She had had to postpone it forever blizzard that had prevented her from getting on this plane. At first she thought it was an omen, and then she rallied realizing it is global warming and that she would soon be making the difference she had led out to do when she signed up with big oil. She had it all set for the moment that cruise ship takes off a chain reaction would begin thus taking down big oil. Why oh why was Jason Braverman here when she knew he hated business trips. He was going to ruin everything. “Hello Jason.” She said doing her best Newman from Seinfeld impersonation. It was this impersonation that struck at Jason in a way he couldn’t figure out. It made him upset for her to think that he was the enemy. He knew where she stood politically and environmentally. He had hoped that she would revolutionize big oil and bring it into the future of sustainability, after all oil was becoming more and more scarce. Jason was forced into this job by his father and grandfather, six uncles, and four older brothers. It was a family business. They were from Texas after all and everything they did was big.

He went to Brown for undergrad for science, went to Stanford for a Masters in science, then a masters in engineering, then a masters in sustainability. He was still working on his PhD as his family got a bit irritated realizing that Jason was not in fact getting the MBA he had said he was, twice. They didn’t have any use for him getting science lessons. Jason so far was disappointed with Mary-Ann. She had done every her bosses had asked of her. She never rocked the boat, never suggested any alternatives. It was the weirdest thing about her outside of her clothing choice and her decision to never wear make-up as it was a horrific industry of abuse and planet destroying, not to mention taking away self-esteem.

She was very quiet around him all the time. Where had that girl gone that he had seen protest with more passion than anyone he had ever met? She fidgeted with her dura-suit which could be used as a sled or eaten if needed, she explained once when they were stuck in an elevator and Jason was caught staring at her. He didn’t care about the suit. “I moved us both up to first class! You’d think there would be more security in allowing me to change someone else’s ticket not even related to me.” Jason rambled when he was nervous, and Mary-Ann was  a great source for that. This was going to be a long plane ride.

After hours of Mary-Ann trying to avoid eye contact for fear of being caught, and Jason who then filled in the empty space where tension existed by talking about anything he could think of. Mary-Ann finally excused herself to go hide in the bathroom. How could she stick with her plan when Jason just explained to her how he wanted her to change big oil by turning it around from within? It shamed her to think that perhaps he was right and that she had wasted all of this time when she could have been doing a direct route of pushing for sustainable alternatives. It was big oil though; they would have fired her had she brought it up. Wouldn’t they have? She doubted her plans more and more, when the captain came on, “We are experiencing technical difficulties and will be landing in TruthorConsequences, New Mexico. It shouldn’t be long before we are back up in the air.”

Mary-Ann found her seat next to Jason who seemed to still be talking without her. Landing for more than an hour would mean Mary-Ann would not make the cruise, and then not be able to disappear as planned while her big oil take down still happened. She couldn’t breathe. She in fact passed out.

“Mary-Ann, Mary-Ann can you hear me?” Her eyes had trouble adjusting in the harsh sun light. “We are taking you to the hospital here. You fainted and couldn’t be woken back up until now. And I tried everything.” He said. Tried everything? What did that mean? Taking us to the hospital? Where were we, had we made it to Hawaii?  “The plane, the plane,” she said. “No its okay they can’t get it to take off. Some guy was hiding in the undercarriage of the plane. He had switched the fuel with donut grease. Can you imagine? What a wacko.” Jason rambled. Mary-Ann was reminded of someone she used to date, in fact her only long term boyfriend, used to pull stunts like this all the way back in college. But no it couldn’t be.

The jacket of the two volunteer first aid squad members read TruthorConsequences. She did not make it to Hawaii, she was in fact in hell, she figured. At any minute she would be picked up by homeland security or worse big oil and never seen again. While she was being lifted into the ambulance, she was able to see the man Jason had mentioned being taken in handcuffs by local authorities into a police car. He looked just like her ex Roger. She could have sworn it was him. Wouldn’t that be ironic. It couldn’t be him. Last time she heard Roger had disappeared into Malaysia after pulling an epic stunt of setting off 400 Canadian geese at a big tobacco gala in Alabama.

“I am her fiancée, I will be riding with.” Did he just say that? Jason was shoving himself into the tiny old ambulance with her. He even held her hand to continue his lie. What drug was this guy on? He was out of his mind Mary-Ann thought. He was also making it impossible for her to sneak away and find her new ride to Alaska. She was holding on to her hopes of escaping into the wilderness. Her new life was waiting for her.

Suddenly the ambulance was being redirected, driving dangerously, but she could not overhear what was happening. Jason was getting slammed against the ambulance walls and of course onto Mary-Ann finally wrapping himself around her and the gurney she was strapped to as it was the only thing he could anchor too. Get off of me she said but he couldn’t hear her as she had said it through the smooched oxygen mask under his right peck. “Don’t panic Mary-Ann I got you.” Jason said. At this point the oxygen from the small tank was the only thing keeping her from being suffocated by unknowing Jason.

The ambulance screeched to a halt. And the back doors swung open, as she heard the front doors open and the driver shriek. “Mary-Ann, don’t panic.” A different voice said. It was in fact her crazy ex-boyfriend Roger. “I did it Mary-Ann, just like I promised you. You said if I ever changed the world, you would take me back.” Jason was still shielding Mary-Ann with his body blocking Roger to take her in his arms as he planned. Three men in cat burglar outfits vaguely reminiscent of Mary-Ann’s weird clothing entered the small space to drag Jason away from Mary-Ann and pull Mary-Ann out via the stretcher.

“I know it is a lot to take in, but we kind of don’t have the time right now,” that sounded familiar to when she used to date Roger, something made her more uneasy than usual. Quickly in the blazing heat of New Mexico they were put into an unmarked black windowless van.  “Roger, it feels like you are kidnapping us.” Mary-Ann was finally able to free herself of the straps and crunch oxygen mask. Roger was too busy speaking with the other, idiots, Mary-Ann decided to call them.

“Roger, did you put donut grease in that airplane?” She said.

Smiling like a jack’o’lantern in heat, Roger said, “Baby I knew you’d understand.” Roger kissed her on the lips. And then got home made pepper sprayed in the face. Which under the circumstances was understandable, however in a small area like the back of a van more consideration should have been taken. The homemade pepper spray hit the air and multiplied, stinging everyone’s eyes and nostrils, and throats. “I remember that recipe, babe. It really is just like old times,” Roger the idiot said. Moments later they pulled to a stop and opened the doors of the van to get air. Little did Mary-Ann know Rogers plan was just the beginning.  Before them laid miles of tent villages and the old wooden sign repainted Peace Farms and Higher Education Village. Higher had a pot leaf as the space filler where the G should be. This was an old commune. It was filled with hundreds of dirty looking hippies.

“This is our new home, until we can make it safely out of the country.” Roger the idiot declared, with the hopeful smile of one who doesn’t realize he isn’t going to make the jump.  “At least let Jason go, Roger, he has nothing to do with me.” She said.

“I want to stay,” Jason said. Roger was already handing Jason a pack, it had his name written on it in marker, Roger’s handwriting. And then Roger handed Mary-Ann her pack.

“What the f is going on? Why do you have a pack for Jason, how did you know I was going to be on that plane?” She said.

“Well Mary-Ann, Jason here paid for our little excursion.” Roger said.

“Roger all that is in this bag is a bunch of stale twizzlers, old hiking boots, an American flag bikini top, and peace sign sunglasses.” She said.

“Babe, I know, it’s everything you left behind the day you put our relationship on hold.” Roger the idiot said.

Instead of dealing with Roger and his crazy ass backwards view on the world, Mary-Ann turned her anger onto Jason.

“What did I ever do to you, that you would do this to me? I have always done all of the assignments you have given me in record time, inflating all goals and tripling our intake.” She said.

“I didn’t hire you to do the job, I mean I did, but I expected you to use your passion for saving the planet to change big oil. And so I figured you like everyone before you just fell in love with all the money and spoils of war. So I took it upon myself to snap you out of it, with a little help from Robert.” He said.

“It’s Roger,” Roger the idiot said.

“If you really want, you can go back to your new reality, but you have to give us one week to let us change your mind.” Jason said.

“Can anyone find me here?” She said.

“We are as off the grid you can get, while staying actually on the grid. This old Christmas tree farm supports itself. We have new identification for everyone here, and your old life cannot find you. If you so choose. But if you want your old life, your old familiar comforts, once you leave you never come back.”

In a way, despite Roger being the dumbest scientist she knew, he kind of helped her escape, without having to go to Alaska and escape solo into the wilderness.

One week turned into ten years. 

Jason and Mary-Ann were married by Roger who finally got over his love of Mary-Ann by finding comfort in the lord… and booze. Big oil became obsolete thanks to Mary-Ann's plans, and was instead replaced by a bunch of mini alternative energy companies that shared resources instead of monopolizing earth’s bounty. That plane that landed in TruthorConsequences New Mexico never did take off again, turns out donut grease it not a healthy alternative for flying.

Ibraham Bean of the future

Ibraham Bean loved turning back the clock. Not for the extra hour of sleep, but because with his prized collection of super antique wind up clocks he would have hours of work ahead of him setting back time. The one thing he still got to do by hand and without the help of a bot.

His collection of clocks went all the way back to his childhood in 2086 when his great grandfather nicknamed “Beta” Bean handed down his most cherished Austrian kuku clock. This was back when “countries” like Austria still existed, very unlike today when countries had turned into even smaller metropolises in the new era of every major city amputating into its own territory.

A throw back if you will to the olden times when Texas thought it should bud away from the United States into its own country. Well look what you started Texas. Now just about anyone could bud off their city into its own country. The country once known as New York City and now only referred to as Manhattan the country lead the way.

Ibraham Bean was a historian. He didn’t like how history hadn’t repeated itself this time. This new era of forming pacts and alliances with thousands upon thousands of individual mini countries really made it hard out there for the working man and woman. The world taking the old television shows of survivor a little too seriously.

In order to just commute to work via his speedster flying Vespa he has to pay a toll including a visa fee to go less than fifty miles from his pod, or for you old ninnies what would be considered a house, if it wasn’t so spherical and buoyant. Ibraham’s easy pass which somehow made its way through the years as the one and only easy access toll paying device company, showed a tally per day of over $450.00. As an accountant, reporting to computer based number crunching rude robots, Ibraham came to the realization that his commute cost more than his pod and taxes. He was already being taxed out the bot for living and breathing taxes.

As he made his way around his house turning back all 150 historic clocks it was time for him to get ready for work, which thank goodness the alert-bot reminded him of, he was so confused by the time he had wound all those clocks as to what time it really was. The clean bot found him and started preparing him for his morning routine without even finding out if he was indeed ready. No this clean bot meant business, and showed no mercy.

First it sucked away Ibraham’s pajamas which as you know in this age were tear-aways like all clothing, making it easier for the bots to do their thing, and for you the human to save precious time.  Ibraham was a bit chilled this morning on this fine July day with his pod knowing he preferred it this way. The bot read his body temperature and goose bumps and shot hot air at him in spurts to help him get over it momentarily until the uni-shower began. What is a uni-shower you ask? How are you reading this without knowing what a uni-shower is!?

The clean bot’s top selling gimmick is that it creates a cleaning mist that can happen literally anywhere, it blocks all private bits, and really cleans well using new technology cleaning mist agents, soaps and shampoos were so yester year. It’s all about the mist clean guarantee! It works for up to an hour even after it has ended. Check with your doctor bot before testing this product.

Now that Ibraham was nice and misty and wrapped in a Velcro-on towel his dress-me-bot appeared. It was the be-all end-all of ending your struggle with deciding what to wear. It did all of the thinking for you! And with just a small pinch here or there and the familiar sound of the Velcro coming apart and then being replaced by more Velcro Ibraham was dressed in the suit of the future! Which looked pretty similar to that of years ago for a middle manager position only, you may have guessed it, it used Velcro to fasten on.  Ibraham didn’t like the feeling of Velcro or of bots cleaning and dressing him. It made him feel strange and not in a good way. It had always been like this since his birth but it never sat well and constantly weighed on his mind. What is the point of saving a few minutes if I can feel less strange, he always thought.

It was time for Ibraham to throw on his oxygen helmet, required by law when outside of your pod, and hopped on his Vespa. He turned on last night’s season ending shocker of Dallas 2.0 where there is rumor that Bobby Ewing may actually succeed against the bad guy and let the vespa drive for him. Yet another perk of the future. As he was really getting into this episode a flash commercial popped into his helmet.

“Ever wonder what it would be like to live past? Well now you can! We at Virgin Atlantic have perfected time travel to go back. If you, or a loved one, are just not having a good time with all of these robots, this is the answer for you. If you want to go to our web simulation click here with your mind.” And sure enough Ibraham did.

By the time he arrived at work, Ibraham had purchased his ticket, and rented out his pod. His stuff was being packed by the moving-bots already. He would be getting on a transporter this very evening. He had been waiting for this his whole life.

At work it was business as usual, as Ibraham is the only human in the company other than the CEO and VPs who never had to go to work, and collected the big money all the same. This didn’t stop Ibraham from telling every single bot that he went past all about what he had just signed up for. Does not compute was the only response he got. He was used to this. It happened every time he tried to have a conversation with these tin walls of silence.

He ate his lunch by himself for the last time, watching the bots shut down and plugged in for their lunch time reboot. His lunch pills seemed even sadder than usual. He fondly recalled his great grandfather’s stories of lunch meat and sliced cheese. Cheese, a constant favorite for Ibraham to hear about. He could not wait to go back in time to when all of these things existed. A time where people spoke directly to each other in person and didn’t use technology so much. He had signed up to go back to the early 1900’s, which is okay because he had had his millennia shots.

Ugh, his stomach was going crazy. He shouldn’t have had that extra pill helping of cheesecake. What was he thinking, the pill seemed so small, but expanded thusly in his stomach. Every time, Ibraham thought.

After collecting his money via his iphone500 for the rent upfront for the year from his pod, and vespa sale, he said farewell to his vespa, and hopped onto the transporter. Oddly enough he noticed a lot of recycling and garbage being loaded on underneath the transporter. I wonder why the past needs this garbage and recycling that we have been promised is always reused unlike ever before. Hmm. Maybe they will share this technology with the past so that we can maybe save the planet in a way that would let people breath air outside of their pods…

He thought a fond fair well to this horrible place he had called home all his life. The sting of the air had made his hands bright red, he had forgotten to put on his safety gloves before leaving work today, in all of his excitement.

The countdown began. He was happy to see that other human beings were also on this transporter. Mostly really old people, but a really sweet looking woman who may be just a tad younger than him was also settling into her seat. Around her neck she wore a necklace with a small sprocket on it. As he gained enough courage to try to speak to her, he hadn’t spoken directly to another human since his father passed away two decades earlier, the safety hoods came down and blocked him in a big way. The countdown ended and they were shot into the past faster than the speed of light!

Awoken hours later, Ibraham did not like the shaking feeling the transporter was causing him. Something must be wrong he thought. Maybe it is turbulence like he had watched about in the safety manual video the hood displayed early. Turbulence only happens in the past!

Crash landing later, the transporter in tatters, Ibraham crawled out of the wreckage afraid for his life, afraid that the air would burn off his skin. The air, although a bit cloudy, did not sting his face. He coughed because of smoke from the crash. But this air was clean! He must have made it. He was alive. He was back in the 1900- what is that sound? A weird loud noise was approaching him. Flashing lights were getting closer. Oh no, he feared!

Sir are you okay, a human wearing weird clothing asked, not wearing a helmet like was custom.

What year is this, Ibraham asked.

This is 1984 sir. Replied the strange human being. He hadn’t made it. He was stuck in 1984. Luckily he had heard all good things about it while watching historical video documentaries about this decade. He was disappointed, but happy to be alive. He wasn’t sure he could really get into the flock of seagulls or pull off their hair. But hey he would make the most of it. And stay away from the white powder which ruined so many careers. Most of the passengers under the age of 90 had made it also . Some had passed away on the flight even before the crash. And all of the garbage and recycling was spread all over the place.

Don’t worry about the mess sir, we have this awesome landfill we use, said a different strange human.

The woman with the sprocket was being transported out by humans. It was a sight to be seen. She was knocked out but looked alright. There were no bots of any size. There were bright colors, radical hair styles, and unnecessary sunglasses, but absolutely no bots! His broken clocks were strewn all around him, frozen in time. Part of his package included free lodging, his very own house. He wondered how his contract would work out in 1984 and what house he would be able to rebuild all of his clocks in. The woman was being put into a, no it cannot be, an actual non flying automobile!

“I’m with her,” Ibraham lied, for the first time in his life. He didn’t know anyone here, and likely neither did she, so why not do the old fashioned buddy system until they figured things out.

Viola gets her due.

“Great. News. Everyone! Please listen up, most of you have known me for years, and it has been a real trip working with each of you. I have some truly great news. I QUIT!” Viola woke up with a snap. Damn it was only a dream. But today was the day. She has been waiting for this her whole life. Every grueling weekend, while others spent letting their hair down, and cutting lose, Viola was working very hard on one project in particular. The worst was that she couldn’t tell anyone. She knew that the risks were too great.

Viola Snapztswitz was a hardworking 32 year old woman who had been in the same dead end job for 13 years. She had watched over again and over again, her male counterparts go up through the ranks. Her boss was the only female in the company who had made it to such a high position. And her boss Eleanor Rankle liked Viola right where she was, she needed her after all, and without her would likely be found out as not being as top notch as she had claimed. Years of taking credit for Viola’s hard work had paid off big time.

Finally in 1963, two years ago Viola had finally snapped, no one could tell of course, because of Viola’s cheery disposition. This was the last straw for Miss Snapztswitz.

At the end of that sad Friday when Viola went home alone to her apartment with her cat, which she had been left by her funny great aunt, she sat at her perpetual table for one in her small kitchen and began plotting. Viola was not malicious in nature and so it wouldn’t be within her to go after her boss, whom she knew stole all of her credit.  No, instead Viola would find her passion again, for she was truly an amazing chemist. But being a woman at this time meant too many closed doors.

When she graduated from the college as one of the first women to graduate in that once predominantly male only university, somehow she graduated at the top of her class, despite all of the jeers, and those trying to steal credit for her work. The misery came after graduation when Viola had all of these once wonderful seeming opportunities close shut in her face when none of the top science labs felt it was ready to allow a woman in its doors to be more than a secretary. A secretary, was what they thought this young woman was interviewing for. So many of the men laughed her out of the office, a woman scientist they scoffed. Not in my lifetime, they swore.

Eventually she met her boss in an interview for a job as a secretary at a makeup factory. At least, she thought, she could work her way up, I mean a female boss would have to understand how hard it is in this world to be a woman, a smart woman, who required a more fulfilling pursuit than to just answer calls and schedule lunch meetings. For the first few years her boss Eleanor placated Viola, teasing her with hopes of promotion, and great acclaim for all of the brilliant ideas she brought to the table, but just a little more time, you know how men are, her boss would say, we need to ease them into it.

Viola didn’t care much for makeup; she cared more about infectious diseases. However, these were the cards she was dealt. And so just as her funny aunt had said to her so many times, screw the lemons, make whatever you want. Viola always just thought she was kooky.  She never even liked cats but took in Leroy out of respect for her aunt. Leroy is who gave her the idea. One day Leroy got into Viola’s bag, looking for the half-finished tuna sandwich she had forgotten about. Poor Leroy had a horrible reaction to the makeup samples that work insisted all the female employees try out, cheaper than bringing in test subjects.

Goodness, thought Viola, as she watched Leroy’s skin flare up and swell. If this made him react like this, just think what it would do to women! She had to do something. This could be her calling. And so her plan began.

Many long weekends of researching cosmetics, ingredients, and then looking up what those ingredients had been originally created for opened up a whole untapped world to Viola and she hoped women at large. As a male dominated industry, which is pretty funny considering men didn’t wear makeup. No wonder they didn’t care what harsh and cheap chemicals went into covering the imperfections of their wives. Viola did. She cared.

Finally after all this time, and her easy access to poor Leroy, she had done it.

She dressed with fervor put on the makeup she had created from scratch and headed to the bus, to head into the city, to go to work. A funny thing happens when you have the same routines every day, you start to recognize the same people on your route, and you may even start a friendly chat. Viola was very chatty as at work she wasn’t allowed to talk outside of what her job demanded. Her boss was insistent on this for she knew if Viola had the opportunity to spill about everything her boss had stolen from her, her boss would surely be ruined.

On Viola’s bus there was a nice old man who was set in his ways and preferred to continue riding the bus he had met his wife, long since passed from cancer. It was a comfort to him, and he felt he was able to be with her every day twice a day on this bus. He had noticed Viola one day, after having spent years on this bus with her, she was really ecstatic a few months ago and smiled for the first time, that he knew of. He started to chat her up about simple things, weather, even fashion, makeup after all he was the CEO of what Viola would find out later to be her employers number one competitor.

He believed in fate, and the strong magic this bus held, so he knew meeting Viola was no accident. Mr. Henry Peabody, of Peabody Cosmetics, took an interest in what Viola thought and her ideas for the way the world could change for a woman with the right makeup application. He patiently waited for her years of trial and error; after all she was working with limited resources in her tiny apartment, on poor Leroy, the cat she never wanted.

Viola stepped on her morning bus and smiled brightly to Harry, which is what Mr. Peabody insisted she call him. Harry could not believe how amazing Viola looked her skin radiated beauty and confidence, and without his being able to tell really that she was wearing it, had it not been for the week before when she was horribly broken out from another failed home beauty product. “I did it!” She said.

Why yes you did, he said. He hired her on the spot to lead his top team of scientists and researchers for Peabody Cosmetics. She accepted on the spot. Instead of going straight to her job, she went with Mr. Peabody to his, to talk to human resources and go over her contract. Harry stayed in the room to make sure she was well compensated for her clearly exceptional intelligence in the field.  He insisted she make more than what his current top employees earned, with the insistence that her cat Leroy be brought to him at his estate. Viola was happy to oblige, now she would have access to thousands of resources and Leroy did his part and deserved to be spoiled by the cat loving Harry Peabody. He also insisted that she be put up in the company Townhouse where his top clients and international scientists stayed when visiting. It was in the heart of the west side and blocks away from work.

Viola had only one compromise; she insisted that a car service bring her and pick her up from her old bus stop so that she could still have her fire side chats with Harry. He was more than happy to oblige. Human resources and the team she would be in charge of were more than a little miffed, a woman scientist! They all murmured, But too bad, they would have to get over it. Viola would bring this company to the top of cosmetics worldwide for the next three decades back to back. Somehow they managed to get over it, especially with the huge pay bumps, and more females being given the opportunity to have leading roles in the industry and to move up through the ranks.

But before all of this, Viola was taken in the town car to her soon to be old job. She pushed her way through the doors shoving past the men who used to shove past her. “Great news everyone, I quit!”

-Samantha Bremekamp

The first post and writing challenge a little East meets West if you will...

John Nickelson is having a bad day. He is stuck in this dead end job as an Elvis impersonator no thanks to his genetics, and his father pushing little Johnny to put on shows for the neighbors as “Lil’ Elvis, the golden years.” It’s a safe assumption to believe that little Johnny never got any action from any of the girls on the street. His fame grew locally and by the time he had graduated high school he was a bit of a celebrity. He had been featured on three news shows.

The problem was that no one would hire him outside of town. His father had been banking on him being a famous impersonator, and never taught him any life lessons and didn’t believe in school education. Johnny couldn’t read above a fifth grade level.

Johnny’s favorite thing to do, on his days off, was go to the local library and sit behind the children’s section during story time. He loved to hear all about the adventures all of the characters in the books went on and more so how much joy it brought to the children. In fact, he had a pretty serious crush on the children’s librarian who everyone called Miss Nan. He knows that if he writes a world famous children’s book, that one day she would read it to the class and he would be able to come out of hiding and introduce himself. Sure, she knew him as Elvis, but she never met the real John Nickelson.

When story hour is over he secretly follows Miss Nan to the local café where she sips her mocha café mmmmmlatta while reading her big kid book, as he referred to it. He didn’t know what it said, but there was a picture of a really good looking man holding a beautiful woman, so he got the idea.

Of course, just his luck, those mean old boggarts had to choose this moment to crash his party. They went right up to him reminding him of the money he owed from the last poker match. He was able to talk them into a double or nothing match right here right now.  Maybe he could beat them, and impress Miss Nan, and then with the money he would be sure to win, he could take them to a movie! Money up front, the boggarts said.

Oh man those boggarts were the worst. Miss Nan’s attention was peaked, and he didn’t have more than two dollars to his name, but he did have.. no he couldn’t…. well… for Miss Nan? And anyway it isn’t like he was going to lose this time. Johnny pulled out his golden flashlight. It was the first prize he won impersonating Elvis, and a professional impersonator of Elvis gave it to him himself! The real impersonator had met Elvis in real life! So this was like touching the hand, of the man, who touched real Elvis’ hand, and this golden flashlight. He left him with these words, “Hunka hunka burning light. Don’t ever be left in the dark kid.”

The reflection of light off of the golden flashlight blinded the boggarts with awe. They accepted the challenge greedily, and so the match began.

(Now the fun really begins, choose your own adventure ending. What will happen is slightly up to you. If you are a lovey dovey happy go lucky, happy endings or bust type a guy/girl then go to A. If you are one of those loves-to-see other people have worse lives than them types go to B. And if you are one of those wishy washy meh, I could go either way sorts go to C.

      

             A. The Greatest Happiest Bestest Ending that Little Johnny Could Ever Ask For

This was the most high stakes poker match this town had ever seen. People began pouring into the little coffee shop just to try to sneak a peak of a group of grisly boggarts sharing one hand of cards against that famous local “Little Johnny.” Little did we know that the coffee shop was about to go out of business because of the big bad star bucks corporation buying up the space around it to open a mega den of mediocre coffee to the masses. This sudden burst of business really saved the day for this coffee shop to remain in business for at least another month!

John’s father made special arrangements with his nursing care facility to have him, and his friends from the floor, transported by the volunteer candy stripers just to see his famous son play. His dad hadn’t left his facility in years on the count of depression and being too sad to ever go feel the sun shine on his face again. Boy did that sun feel good today! The air was crisp, the sun was high, and there was not one cloud on the horizon.

After four grueling hours of serious card throwing it came down to one last turn of the deck. It would be with this final hand that Little Johnny would make his triumphant return into the lime light.

In the slowest possible toss of the card, that some folks say lasted at least 45 minutes of the card soaring through the air, Little Johnny held his breath and just looked deeply into the eyes of his love Miss Nan who returned the electric gaze. In this moment he thought no matter what he would finally ask out Miss Nan. He no longer wanted to be that creepy guy in the book shelves spying on the story hour. He wanted to be recognized as a man, a man who loved Miss Nan, and of course her story telling magical ways.

The roaring crowd shook him from his locked stare to see that, he in fact, as impossible as it was, having never won a hand of poker once in his life, he had actually beaten the bogarts.

Those nasty heathens growled, and howled, screamed and punched at each other sending blame around and around. The golden flashlight never looked so golden. Johnny picked it up and waved it triumphantly. He then went over to Miss Nan and dipped her like on the cover of her book, and kissed here in front of the cheering crowd.

Oh Miss Nan, he said. Please call me Miss Nan, she said. And he laughed. “Why don’t you come back to my place and read me some bed time stories, while I tuck you in,” Miss Nan blushed.

A sprite older man interrupted the smooching, “Little Johnny, my name is Max Wellington, and I would like to co-write a book about you, what do you say?” Little Johnny could not believe how much his luck had changed in one day. Johnny’s smiled spread in a funny direction, with his lip curling just so“Yes. Why thank you, thank you very much.” All his dreams came true.

      B. For those anti happy endings folks….

This was the most high stakes poker match this town had ever seen, played in a coffee shop. People didn’t even notice. On more than one occasion near buy patrons told the group to be quiet, and to take their business elsewhere. Little did we know that the coffee shop was about to go out of business because of the big bad star bucks corporation buying up the space around it to open a mega den of mediocre coffee to the masses. The few customers that frequented this shop had had enough of this noise and left to bring their green to star bucks.

The manager knew that if they didn’t have a sudden surge today, this would be the shop’s last day. He started firing his loyal employees one by one. Many of them were actually on parole, as the owner believed in second chances and this was their last hope. This would mean they would have to turn back to a life of crime, or worse go to jail for breaking parole.

John’s father heard the news from his nurse, at the nursing home, who had just been at the coffee shop buying coffee and cookies for her staff. His father knew how bad Little Johnny was at everything but being Elvis, and his father also knew it was mostly his fault for putting all this hunka-hunka eggs in one basket. The thought of his son losing the only thing of value that the family had left, that golden flashlight, gave him a massive heart attack and he died on the spot.

After four grueling hours of serious card throwing it came down to one last turn of the deck. It would be with this final hand that Little Johnny would make his triumphant return into the lime light or suffer the dire consequences.

In the fastest possible toss of the card, Little Johnny held his breath and tried to look deeply into the eyes of his love Miss Nan. Miss Nan however was giving a serious seductive stair to one of the bogarts. In this moment he thought no matter what he would finally ask out Miss Nan, because maybe he was mistaken about who she was looking at. Maybe she was near sighted and didn’t realize she wasn’t looking at him. He no longer wanted to be that creepy guy in the book shelves spying on the story hour. He wanted to be recognized as a man, a man who loved Miss Nan, and of course her story telling magical ways.

The cackles of his enemies quickly snapped him back into reality. He had just lost his golden flashlight. Worse yet, Miss Nan was kissing a bogart! “Miss Nan, how could you, I thought, I thought maybe you would want to go out with me?” But Miss Nan had other plans.

“Actually sir, you are under arrest, for one count of illegal gambling, and 1097 counts of pedophilia. Sir we have multiple witnesses who can attest to your spying on children every day for the past three years. And we know for a fact that you do not read, as you have never checked out a book. I’m not actually a librarian, I am an undercover homeland security agent, who was assigned to this library because of you and your ties to the boggarts.” Miss Nan said.

Two of the boggarts ripped away their skin to reveal two other homeland security agents. How could they do that, the makeup artist they used must be from that show Face Off. They put cuffs on Little Johnny and took him away. Leaving his beautiful flashlight in the hands of Miss Nan. “I am going to write a book and become famous,” she said, loudly so that John could hear. But, but all he had ever wanted was to write a book.

      C. For the inbetweeners.

This was the most high stakes poker match this town had ever seen. People began pouring into the little coffee shop just to try to sneak a peak of a group of grisly boggarts sharing one hand of cards against that famous local “Little Johnny.” Little did we know that the coffee shop was about to go out of business because of the big bad star bucks corporation buying up the space around it to open a mega den of mediocre coffee to the masses. This sudden burst of business really saved the day for this coffee shop to remain in business for at least another week!

John’s father begged to make special arrangements with his nursing care facility to have him, and his friends from the floor, transported by the volunteer candy stripers just to see his famous son play. His dad hadn’t left his facility in years on the count of depression and being too sad to ever go feel the sun shine on his face again. Of course the facility only allowed him to be taken by the janitor who was on his lunch break, and making a coffee run for the group. But boy did that sun feel good today! The air was crisp, the sun was high, and there was not one cloud on the horizon.

After 45 grueling minutes of serious card throwing it came down to one last turn of the deck. It would be with this final hand that Little Johnny would make his triumphant return into the lime light or suffer the miserable consequences.

In the slowest possible toss of the card, that some folks say lasted at least 3 minutes of the card soaring through the air, Little Johnny held his breath and just looked deeply into the eyes of his love Miss Nan who returned the electric gaze for one second until she went back to her book. In this moment he thought no matter what he would finally ask out Miss Nan. He no longer wanted to be that creepy guy in the book shelves spying on the story hour. He wanted to be recognized as a man, a man who loved Miss Nan, and of course her story telling magical ways.

The roaring crowd shook him from his locked stare to see that, he in fact, as impossible as it was, having never won a hand of poker once in his life, had actually beaten the boggarts.

Those nasty heathens growled, and howled, screamed and punched at each other sending blame around and around. The golden flashlight never looked so golden.  John’s father stood up from his wheel chair and clasped his son on the back, while holding his oxygen mask in the other hand. “Well done my boy, I knew you were special.”

Johnny picked up his father and hugged him. He then grabbed his golden flashlight and waved it triumphantly. He then went over to Miss Nan and dipped her like on the cover of her book, and went to kiss here in front of the cheering crowd. But she politely stopped him, and stood back up just as her fiancée came into the café. He was in fact the model on the cover of the book. That was why she was always reading those books he was always on the cover. “This is my fiancée Raul,” said Miss Nan, John’s heart sank, “and let me also introduce you to my twin sister Priscila. Johnny had never seen anyone so perfect, and so beautiful… “Hi, I’m Priscila, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Yes, Priscila is the brain of the family, she is a big time literary editor.” Said Miss Nan.

“Well I also I teach adults how to read at the youth center if you ever want to stop by. I never get to meet such handsome men at work.” She winked.

“I would really like that. Thank you, thank you very much.” Said John.

This was the best, worst, best day of Little Johnny’s life.

(Hope you enjoyed it! --Samantha)