For this one: You must find your partner in a blackout and get them to stop messing with you.
BLACKOUT (any gender, early twenties through late life)
(God, what is that smell?)
Come on babe, come out, come out wherever you are. Not many hiding places in this house anyway. How many square feet did we figure--?
But I guess this is one big hiding place, isn't it? Can't see two inches in front of my face.
Babe, do you know how long the blackout's been going on? I can't get my smartphone or my laptop to turn on and I can't see the wall clock. Street lights must be out too.
It stinks in here-- did you take the garbage out before bed? Or is this the world record of you forgetting, or just ignoring it because there was something cool on youtube that you just had to--
Sorry, sorry. I'm not being nice.
I know Dr. Wilson wants us to work on that, wants ME to work on that. So: "Sweetie, I love you and I need your help finding the candles. You always know where they are. You're good about things like that."
See? That was nice, wasn't it?
No games, babe. Dr. Wilson wants us to work on that-- want YOU to work on that, remember? I know you're not in the bathroom; I was alone in there when I got up to pee. I know you're not outside because it's five below zero. I know you're not moving around in here because you can't stand being barefoot and I can hear those flip flops a mile away. Sound like duck farts every time you take a step.
[make a fart-sound,
Why can't you wear slippers like everybody else- ahhhhh...
[still not seeing but]
annoyed you into coming out, did I?
Ha! You know I always like it when you run a finger up my back. Tickles just enough. Just en--sweetie?
Sweetie, stop a sec.
There's something slimy on your finger, whole thing actually feels like slime, sort of like a slug trail up my back. Sorry but it's true. And that [cough] that smell is even stronger-- is that coming from YOU? I'm not trying to be mean but we really need to do something about that before--
[quick pained inhale, shut eyes tight and end piece]
Copyright 2016 by Matt Haynes.
If you would like to use this piece, please credit: "Courtesy of Matt Haynes and The Pulp Stage"