The PlayA Story by Phibby Venableanother lonely, snowy night!The Play It was a dark and stormy night. Well, it was actually a full moon over Georgia night, but I was trying for a little drama in a new play I was making up for my best friend's birthday. Her name is Stella, and when she isn't carrying on at the mental hospital, she is asking for two act plays. She likes the first act full of drama, and the second one with a good death scene. She doesn't just hang out at the hospital, she makes bona fide pot holders and does follow the lines paintings of birds. Her insurance is pretty flexible, so at least once a month she commits herself. It is lonesome without her, so I go visit and try to entertain her the best that I can. Last month I read her articles from some antique reader's digest that we found in the lounge. We chose the, I Am Joe's Gall Bladder, slipped the word crotch in, instead of gall bladder, and had a fine time. It went a little something like this: I help Joe filter poisons from his liver. ( I said this primly and with serious intent.) That is where Joe downed a 12 pack every day for fifty years! (Stella, as narrator) I remove all the waste. (Still sternly prodding on) Why? (Stella howling), did Joe crap himself? Anyway, you get the picture. We had a fine visit and she promised to be home for her birthday, if I promised to do a play. I always drag in my cousins as companions on these productions. They are natural actresses, which is obvious from the men they date. There are two cousins, Dana and Debbie, and they choose men purely on the shape of their bottoms in jeans. When these men suddenly turn to complete asses, they are shocked and astonished. Of course I would not want to give off the totally untrue assumption that I am any better at relationships. I have what I inwardly refer to as the sympathy affliction. I meet men that are wholesome. Well, at least they are laughing, witty, enjoying life and tossing money about like confetti. I laugh, I sing, I dance, I offer a shoulder to cry on. Pay great attention to that last part. Within a month, sometimes two, these men have lost their jobs, their charm, and their health. I am now supporting a crippled, snarling creature with high blood pressure, heart problems, and a claim in at social security for disability. Of course, it is a guilt producing thing, so I let them hang out while they are waiting for their checks. These men aren't pleasant either. They resent living off a woman and eventually leave, but it usually isn't until they start receiving worker's comp or disability. You have probably heard of the Black Widow, but in my case it is the Black Weeper. Everything that ever haunted them in their lives catches up with them just at that moment that I acquire tender feelings. My other prospect for the play is Irene. She is a loyal, tough, steel knucks kind of woman with a large gusto for life and tequila. The men she acquires wait on her hand and foot, and no wish is too ridiculous to fulfill to please her. Stella says she keeps them on valium and she does have a pretty big stash of pills in her bureau. The only problem there is that Irene always wants the leading lady role. This is a problem sometimes, especially when the leading lady is supposed to display a certain degree of ladylike behavior. For example, in the Miss America pageant play I wrote, she insisted on being the winner. When it came time to walk down the aisle, she was blubbering like a fool, and dragging the roses. Her tiara was a bit tangled in her high rise teased hair and she was determined to make the walk in 3 inch heels. Since she is usually shod in hiker's boots, this took some getting used to. Unfortunately, she wasn't one to practice anything much. She just stalked right out, teetering like a tall line of blocks, and waving one arm madly to retain her balance. The play was a big hit anyway.with Stella rolling on the floor with delight. Once I have my actresses lined up, I have to think of the perfect theme. Since Stella is so enamored with the hospital, I decide on a windy night at the clinic, where the leading lady is rushed into emergency surgery for an unknown stomach complaint. Instead, she receives a lobotomy and comes out as gentle as a lamb. Then she receives the hospital bill, and in a lust for revenge, tries to attack the doctor that performed the surgery with a twenty eight dollar bottle of lotion. Since those little bottles of lotion are small, I will have to create a scenario where she makes him swallow it. I was pondering the fine points of the production when my latest man shouted from the bedroom. Stop that damn clicking. You know the keys bother me. Turn the fan on, I shout back. He is in no mood to barter. Just last month he had been a fine figure of a man, now he was on the verge of death. Once a two hundred pound carpenter, he was now a two hundred pound package of depression. His hammer lay in the cobwebs. I am working overtime at the laundry mat. It is a second job and I love the way people continue to drop quarters. Obviously, they can not hear over the roar of the dryers, but I can hear the ping of a quarter at a hundred feet. My new man loves quarters. When he is able to ride into town with me, he likes to play the machines at the entrance of the stores. We acquired a bunch of stuffed animals from the machines. I usually wait until he has forgotten about them, and then take a picture and put them on ebay. Apparently, lots of folks out there have been done in by those machines, because the stuffed animals go like hot cakes. What they do to them after they acquire them is not my concern. It is getting late so I put the play aside and fix some green tea. I look in the bedroom, but the fan had performed its mission, and he is sleeping peacefully. I sit looking out the window. I ignore the spider webs in the window frame and focus on the stars. I see some beautiful bright ones. I see tiny ones way back in the sky, like a beautiful cast supporting the star performers. © 2010 Phibby VenableFeatured Review
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Added on February 20, 2010Last Updated on February 20, 2010 Tags: fiction AuthorPhibby Venableabingdon, VAAbouthttp://youtu.be/25XE-BHGvWI http://youtu.be/B2klgDKMUq0 I live in the mountains of Southwest Virginia. Although my passion is poetry, I recently published a novel called, Women of the Round Tabl.. more..Writing
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