Espionage is a Dirty Business

3 Dec

(A spy in a suit is tailing a foreign diplomat through Washington. The spy follows the diplomat into one of the Smithsonian’s bathrooms.)

SPY (into earpiece): The subject has entered the bathroom. I’m in the adjacent stall.

(through earpiece): Roger. Keep us updated.

(Minutes pass. The diplomat shrugs off the garbled conversation emanating from the toilet next to him as someone talking to himself. In any country, asking people you’re pooping next to what they’re talking about is generally frowned upon.)

(through earpiece): How’s it going, Agent? Any movements?

SPY: Gross. Oh, wait, he’s about to move!

(through earpiece): Stay with him. Do exactly as he does.

SPY: Gotcha.

(The diplomat exits the stall, stops by the sink, and turns for the door without turning on the faucet.)

SPY: Woah, wait. We’ve got a problem.

(through earpiece): What is it? Did you lose him?

SPY: No, I got him.

(through earpiece): Then what’s the issue?

SPY (hesitate): He didn’t wash his hands?

(through earpiece): So? Just follow him! Who cares?!

SPY: I can’t just leave without washing. That’s nasty!

(through earpiece): Agent, if you lose your target, you can kiss your security clearance goodbye. Now go catch up!

SPY: I don’t even want to be near him! That guy has no hygiene! I don’t know how it works in Azerbaijan, but you’ve got to clean up after yourself here in the states!

(through earpiece): I don’t care! Go catch up before you blow this entire mission. And he’s from Turkmenistan! Do you even read the briefs we send you?

SPY: Fine, I’ll go, but don’t come crying to me if this is the worst flu season the history’s seen in years. I’m leaving the bathroom now.

(from off-camera) Excuse me sir?

(The spy turns, surprised, and finds the diplomat waiting in the corner.)

DIPLOMAT (with accent): Excuse me, sir? I’m not from this country. Do you know who I can tell to replace the soap?

 

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Thank You

22 Nov

Before you fall into your turkey coma, I just wanted to tell you that today is the first anniversary of The Lighter Side of the Moon and how thankful I am for your readership over the last year. On another note, if you’re having computer problems and can’t read this post, Wal-Mart doorbusters start in six hours.

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Things You, Unfortunately, Might Hear this Thanksgiving

18 Nov

“We’ve got to get to Wal-Mart by eight, tonight! It’s 65% off tramplings!”

“Had enough of football? There’s still plenty to do this Thanksgiving. Head to the nature center for an in-depth lecture on turkey vocalizations. Or, check out the library’s program on the history of stuffing.”

“Black Friday shopping, huh? Oh sure, go buy a new TV. It’s not like I’ve been elbow-deep in the business end of a turkey, preparing your feast for the last two hours!”

“Your Christmas decorations look lovely.”

“Guys, the tofurkey’s ready!”

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , ,

Cacciatore in the Rye

11 Nov

(In a dimly lit New York Italian restaurant/bar, the two crotchetiest characters of the Western canon have met for drinks and dinner. Holden Caulfield and Larry David find their seats at a table near the back. They are flanked on the left by a table of elegantly-dressed female flibbertigibbets, whose loud conversation echoes across the dining room.)

LARRY: Oy gevalt. Who comes to a classy place like this and shouts across the dining room? The rest of us can hear you, you know!

HOLDEN: Easy, Larry. Let the people act young. The world turns around them, and they’re locked in a state of perpetual aging. They try to break free and be young, but they can’t. They’re getting old. They’re not locked in glass.

LARRY: Speaking of old, this guy at the movie theater added a senior discount to my ticket price.

HOLDEN: So? You qualify and you’re old enough. It saves you money.

LARRY: Yeah, but he didn’t even have to ask how old he was. He could probably tell by looking, but it seemed a little rude to just assume. The kid should have a little decency and ask how old I am. Not even enough manners to ask my age.

(Holden rolls his eyes and the two immerse themselves in the menu.)

HOLDEN: I want the veal cacciatore. What are you having?

LARRY: Uh, such a big menu. I can’t decide. We’ll just share the veal.

HOLDEN: Fine, I’ll let you share with me.

LARRY: Are you getting wine? I’m not, but if you do, do us a favor and remember the price. You have to split the check, and nobody ever agrees, it’s just bad. So, veal cacciatore it is.

(A waiter has just overheard the conversation, and arrives to confirm the order.)

WAITER: Sharing the veal cacciatore, are we? It’s great, it really is.

LARRY: Yes, we’ll have that. And two waters.

HOLDEN: These restaurants are all so phony. The smoke, the jazz, the clinking of glasses. None of it means anything. That’s all it is, ambience.

LARRY: Speaking of phony, looks at that lady over there. She can barely move her forehead!

HOLDEN: Oh Larry,the things we’ll do to feel young.

(Fast-forwarding a little, the veal has arrived, split between two plates. Holden rests his head on a hand planted on the table and wistfully pushes the meat around his plate. Larry eats a morsel, but promptly spits it out.)

LARRY: Dear God, that’s appalling!

HOLDEN: What, Larry, is it bad?

LARRY: It’s past bad, it’s raw! It’s plain and simple raw! We could’ve caught food poisoning! One more bite and I’d have been in the hospital!

HOLDEN: No one ever cooks the veal right these days. There’s no care in the food. No love. Just some guy putting meat on a fire, collecting a paycheck, and leaving. It’s just veal. It’s not molded, and it’s not prepared. It just comes out pure. Unadulterated. Raw.

LARRY: Sure, real poetic. Meanwhile, I might be coming down with something! Feel my head, that’s a fever!

HOLDEN: I wish I could do something about it. All these people, they come for Italian food, but they have no idea. It’s just cacciatore in the rye. They’re all waiting to get sick with the bad veal, but I stop it every time. I send the food back to the kitchen. None of the customers ever get sick. I could do that all day, then I’d be happy.

(Lights fade. The soft, metallic bang of utensils, the contrived chit-chat, and the soft tunes of the band all crescendo as Holden drifts back into his daydreaming, and Larry grabs his abdomen and runs for the bathroom. Curtains close.)

END SCENE

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , ,

This Post is Not About the Election

6 Nov

This post is not about the election. Nor is it about Hurricane Sandy. This is about the thing most antithetical to the pertinent, future-molding events of our week.

Dog sweaters are by far my favorite part of fall. For the first time since spring, it’s chilly enough to put your pooch in a cozy woolen sweater. Halloween is past and with it the tacky tuxedoes and princess costumes that owners put their pets in. Now, you get to do your animal a favor and style it with some warm clothes. If your dog is relentlessly pulling at his sweater and tearing it to shreds, don’t worry! This is just your friend expressing his gratitude for his new threads. So, this autumn, escape the holidays, political brouhaha, and natural disasters with a little bit of doggy dress-up.

If only dogs had some adaptation to stay warm without a sweater, like, say, fur.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

The Watertown Feminists E-Newsletter

30 Oct

Hello ladies,

Unfortunately, due to Hurricane Sandy, the Watertown County Feminists will not be meeting this week. However, next week’s meeting at Judy’s house is as scheduled. Due to the scheduling conflict, we will have the pot-luck at Judy’s (dibs on potato salad!) and the bring-a-friend-night will happen in November.

However, just because we aren’t meeting doesn’t mean we are relieved of our duty to fight male chauvinism this hurricane season. Every autumn, we are assaulted by a barrage of anti-women propaganda, as storms are dubbed with an offensive womanly nomenclature. This sly insinuation of the women’s stormy, disruptive characteristics can not be continued, and as proud females for females, we have the power to stop it. The continued naming of tropical storms after women is a crude effort by our own government to paint women as dangerous inconveniences to society, and we must wage our guerilla efforts with increased fervor this hurricane season.

– Lisa

P.S. I still have dibs on the potato salad.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , ,

Today’s Random Thought

29 Oct

I saw two statuses:

No school tomorrow!
No, school tomorrow!

The importance of punctuation.

 

 

Tags: , , , , , , , ,

Today’s Random Thought

25 Oct

Since arriving at the stadium, Pablo Sandoval and Prince Fielder make up a combined 4 percent of San Francisco’s biomass.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Cartoon Guide to Breaking out of Prison

21 Oct

1. Be in prison. I don’t care if you were just holding that ACME bomb for a friend, this is a cartoon. There is no due process nor do you have the right to legal counsel. And just to add insult to injury, you’re going to have to wear a silly striped costume.

2. Smash rocks. Cartoon prisons love it when you smash rocks, so do your best and get the guards on your side.

3. Inform your cellmate of your plan. He doesn’t necessarily have to come along, but he’s going to have to stop playing the harmonica and banging a cup on the bars of your cell long enough for you to get out quietly.

4. Wait. In this cartoon prison, the guards do not work shifts or report to some kind of central command. The only security the prison has at night is a sleeping guard sitting three feet from your cell with his keys hanging loosely from his belt loop.

5. Get the keys. Unfortunately, the guard’s belt is roughly two inches beyond your reach, so it’s time to get creative. Your best bet will probably be to inch your leg out of the cell and grab the keys with your oddly opposable toes.

6. Bolt. Now that you’re out of the cell, you’re automatically out of the prison. That’s just how it works. Something with relativity, I guess.

7. Make it over the wall. Although the prison security has been insanely lax so far, they were really just concentrating their resources on this small strip between the building and the fence. The control tower has big lights, a megaphone, and all kinds of other stuff that’ll spot your attempt.

8. Dig a tunnel. Grab that shovel sitting next to the fence, and get under the fence as fast as you can. I have a feeling this will only take a matter of seconds.

9. Be free. Despite the massive manhunt for you and your face being plastered on all of the newspapers, retreat to a small cabin on a lake and lay in a hammock. They’ll never find you.

Tags: , , , , , ,

Anti-Bullying Workshop

17 Oct

School systems across America do great things to help kids fight bullying and make their learning environments ones in which students are more respectful and care for each other. They offer students strategies to stand up for themselves and aid others who are in sticky situations. However, there are many cutting-edge techniques in the anti-bullying field that often aren’t discussed at these workshops.

 

The Budding Psychologist 

“Gimme all your lunch money.”

“Sure, you can have the money. But do you not think that your constant need to take from others is a subconscious representation of an emptiness you feel? Is there something in your life that you were never given, and therefore you feel you need to take? Tell me about your mother.”

The Reversal

“Gimme all your lunch money.”

“No, you gimme all your lunch money.”

“No, you gimme all your lunch money.”

“No, you gimme all your lunch money.”

“No, I give you all my lunch money.”

“Ah-hah!”

The Messy Reversal

“Gimme all your lunch money.”

(Target responds with a swift jab to the stomach and runs to get the janitor.)

The Yosemite

“Gimme all your lunch money.”

(Target holds his coat high over his head to create the illusion of size, stands very still, and tries to control his heart rate and breathing because they can smell the fear.)

Tags: , , , , , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →