Stage Left

Scene: Bustling law office, 3 P.M., our heroine is suited in a demure white sweater and grey slacks that are just a tad tight due to several days of extra helpings of General Tso’s chicken. She is busily typing an email to her friend about how she wished the day was over already and is thinking about Chinese for dinner.

(Insert ringing of cell phone)

Heroine: “Hi Landlord! How are you doing?”

Landlord: “Well, pretty good. Took a vacation day today. You have a washer and dryer now. However, remember how you couldn’t get the stove to start and I thought it was because you were an idiot? Well, it appears that you aren’t a complete idiot, it appears that the gas company shut off the gas.”

Heroine: “I told you I graduated 5th in my class! Someone with those kinds of brains can surely figure out how to turn on a gas stove. I will call the gas company and find out what is wrong.”

(Muted tones wherein Heroine and Gas Company discuss how the gas company screwed up, they apologize and will get someone right out to fix their error and Ms. Heroine should have a nice day.)

(Cut to new apartment. Apartment has limited furnishings. No cable, no internet, no couch, an air mattress. Requiring our Heroine to hunch over her only real furniture, a kitchen table, completing Sudoko puzzles and listening to an audio book.)

Time: 10:00 PM

Heroine: “Hi Gas Company. I have been waiting here for 4 hours. It is a Friday night. I am becoming a hunchback, although my analytical skills are surely improving due to the 26 Sudoko puzzles I have completed. However, I am curious if I will have gas tonight?

Gas Company: (Evil maniacal laughter) We show up when we want. You must wait for us, you stupid peon.”

Heroine: “This is your fault, however. You unilaterally shut off my service, whereas there was no logical reason to do so as heretofore my service was appropriate. Therefore, I would appreciate some candor as to the reasoning on the inappropriateness of cutting my gas. (Smile smugly due to use of big law firm words.)

Gas Company: “Yo, bitch, shut up. We do whatever the hell we want. You want gas? Shut up. I is putting you on hold.”

3 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Hmm…he sure told me.”

4 more minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I interject that I work at a law firm?”

2 minutes pass.

Heroine: “Should I call Marvin Zindler? Dammit, he is dead. Maybe Wayne Dolcefino? Angelina Jolie? Larry the Cable Guy?”

2 more minutes pass.

Heroine hangs up. And hangs her head.

(10:30 PM. Insert ringing cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello?”

Heroine’s Friend: “Are you still there? What if the gas dude is a maniacal serial killer? Do you have pepper spray? A Tazer? How about some nunchuks?”

Heroine: “Dude. Chill. You are freaking me out. I only have a knife. But if it will make you feel better, I will keep knives stashed in convenient locations so if this gas dude gets fresh, I can stab his ass.

Friend: “Good, use an upward angle, and when it is in, pull up really hard.”

Heroine: “You are fucking crazy. And you are scaring me. Goodbye.”

(Heroine dials a number on her cell phone.)

Heroine: “Hello? Gas Company? I have been told that ya’ll show up anywhere until midnight? Is that correct?

Gas Company: “Bitch, I told you we show up whenever the fuck we want. What are you bugging about?”

Heroine: “Well, I am a bit concerned for my own safety (Runs finger along knife edge.) as well as the safety of the technician. I don't know my neighbors, but wasn’t the Joe Horn incident just up the freeway and through the woods?”

Gas Company: Yo. Our technicians are ninjas. No one messes with them. They will be there when they want to be there. Quit calling.”

Heroine cries. And goes back to her hotel. Dejected and without gas. She then proceeds to fart all night long from the General Tso chicken and is struck by the irony.