Abduction

Gary stowed the bottle under the front seat. According to the latest weather report, the evening was supposed to be clear with a full moon. The temperature was predicted to drop below zero, but he didn't feel cold. He was too focused to notice the chill spreading through his car.

The engine ticked, slowly releasing the last dregs of heat. Gary patted  his pocket to make sure the keys were still there. The adhesive on his sideburns stretched his skin uncomfortably, and the wig itched, but he couldn’t chance any passersby recognizing him.

Six long days ago his office phone rang. He answered, and got the shock of his life. Someone had abducted Shannon. He was so shaken he couldn't make even simple numbers add up. 

When he met Shannon it was mutual love at first sight. They reveled in each other. They both enjoyed the outdoors and long afternoon naps on the weekends. Gary found himself working even harder at the CPA firm so he could buy her the best of everything. He would do anything for her, even break the law to get her back.

So here he sat at the bottom of the ski hill, waiting for the abductor and the return of his beloved Shannon.

As dusk deepened, leaving the mountain in silhouette and adding mystery to its very existence, a van slowly rolled up. Gary exited his car.

“Did you bring it?”

“Here you go.” 

Gary passed the bottle of Colt 45 to the pimply teenager and in return, took Shannon in his arms. The tiny Yorkie licked his face and yipped in relief. 

Last Resort

Lucy sat in the coffee shop, privy to a clear, unfortunate view of snow falling from the late April sky. 

Unbearable. That’s what this was. Her knee bounced beneath the table in a rhythm of its own.

She wished she was on a plane, flying to some new scene replete with dashing and unforgettable characters which, she was sure, lay just beyond this horizon. Yet, disappointingly, here she was. In Wausau. And it was snowing. Again.

Experience told her that warmer weather would eventually arrive, but in the meantime, she might have to resort to radical measures. Resort. Hmmm. She had savings. Maybe she’d book a last minute trip to an exotic location where she’d enjoy margaritas on the beach, the sound of surf lapping, and a few rounds of water volleyball. Maybe she’d even meet a cute, mysterious guy.

There was no doubt. She needed excitement and a break from the crummy weather, and a trip would be the fastest way to get both.

As she picked up her iPhone to search for the latest Groupon Getaway deals, the door opened admitting a swirl of snow, cold air, and a handsome man. 

“They’ll have little chance of succeeding unless we help them,” he uttered his voice deep and accented. “I know this plan is our last resort, but we need to step in and make this all right.”

Lucy forgot all about the weather.

Breaking Up

Grunts and crashes echo up from the field where the college football team is drilling. I have always appreciated those skin tight outfits, but today, I have no time to stop and admire the scenery. 

I push on, up the hill, my alternating heels marking allegro time as they hit the sidewalk. 

“Hey lady, where’s the fire?”

A couple neighborhood kids straddle their bikes. I can smell their prepubescent stink, these creatures from another dimension. I keep walking.

The door is cool under my fingers as I unlock it. I let myself in, slide the chain into place, and walk to the massive record collection on the opposite wall, selecting a rare Janice Joplin album titled Like One of Those Beautiful Men. I slide it from its sleeve and admire the round perfection. Stan loved this album, like he used to love me.

It isn’t long before footsteps approach, a key rattles in the lock and the door opens, just as far as the chain will allow.

“What the hell?”                                                                     

I take my time and saunter to the door, album in hand.

“Hello, Stan.”

“Gilda? How’d you get in? Open the door. Now!”

He puts his shoulder to the door but the chain holds.

“I don’t think so Stan.

I hold the record over my knee where I’m sure he can see what I’m doing, and snap it in two.

“That was music to my ears. How about an encore Stan? Maybe some Doors. Or maybe some early alternative rock.”

Chance

“That’ll be $800.”

Slowly I move my eyes from the window and direct them back at the Monopoly board. Damn. How does she always manage to end up with Park Place and Boardwalk?  

I hand over the money. All I have now are a smattering of little bills. Marge grunts in appreciation and rolls her Everlasting Gobstopper against her dentures, clacking like an abacus. Her lazy eye remains pointed toward the board – and her many properties - while she turns the other to Ginny.

“Your turn Ginny. And this time, don’t forget to roll both dice.”

“I know, I know.” Ginny’s voice recalls long nights spent in the company of whiskey and cigarettes, both companions now banished by her kids since her second heart attack.

My gaze flits back to the window, attracted by a movement in the parking lot. Just a medi-van dropping someone off and the sky shedding snow. Nothing unusual.

“I’m up to my elbows in bread dough when my daughter casually mentions…” Marge stops midsentence. 

“Ginny, just what the hell d’you think you’re doing?”

“I’m straightening my money. I like it so it’s all point in the same direction.”

Now, everyone knows Marge takes her games seriously, especially Monopoly. 

“Well if this doesn’t make you furious…” 

“OK. I’m going. See?”

Ginny quickly throws the dice, moves the thimble and lands on Chance. Her card says, Get out of Jail Free.

I wish there was a Get out of Here Free card.

Play for a Cause

Last year some clients at Marshfield clinic asked if our company would be open to working with them on a new type of health education event. Would we be interested in writing a series of short plays or skits that would give the audience important information about breast cancer screening and treatment? Oh, and could we make them funny? Well, I love a good challenge, so of course I said yes and ran with the project.

I got some background information from them, came up with a list of concepts (which they liked), and proceeded to panic. I write scripts for video projects on a regular basis, but it had been a long time since I'd written a play.

I did what any self respecting student of words would do - I found a class. I had planned to attend the Rhinelander School of the Arts, a summer program run through UW Madison, and they just happened to be offering a one week class on writing 10 minute plays (taught by Gail Sterkel). Halleluiah and pass the paper. I was saved!

The class turned out to be not only informative but fun. We read well written plays and shared our own work in the class. I got some great feedback on the first of my six plays, and I was off. I had a blast concocting scenarios and characters and getting them to work in tandem to entertain while still conveying important information about breast cancer screening, symptoms, and treatment. Other people who read the plays even laughed at the parts I had intended to be funny - no small relief.

The plays were performed on May 2, 2013 by the wonderful Artista Players for a sold out crowd of about 200. Attendees enjoyed delicious appetizers before the show and desserts at intermission. They laughed and cried thanks to the magic of the actors and the power of the information. And at the end of the evening, we learned that the event organizers had raised $10,000 for cancer patient care funds.

What a night!

There’s a chance we’ll take the show on the road to other regional Clinic centers which would be cool. But no matter what, that evening will always remain etched in my mind… being surrounded by people gathered for a common cause, enjoying the entertainment, and learning along the way.

spring clean up

truck crawls past me
headed to the
yard waste site

the trailer behind it overflows with
spring branches
sweeping the street
leaving only spinning orphans
in its wake