I threw my bags in the back, got inside, and
pulled away just in time. The man, followed by a large woman, ran
down the street yelling, “I’ll get your pansy ass!”
Samson looked at me with tears in his eyes and
said, “Thank you.”
We never went back.
****
Strangers
Hollywood
Rex
Goldberg, one of the highest grossing actors in Hollywood, recently
signed on to do a horror movie.
It was a typical zombie movie, set in a city,
with people coming together to defend against the zombies from a
central point. He was the dashing male lead who would eventually
win the heart of the tough but lovely female lead. It was a pretty
easy role.
Usually he preferred to converse with the other
star actors during breaks in shooting and let the lesser actors,
extras, and crew socialize among themselves. This time, during the
first day, he had a scene with one of the extras playing a zombie
that involved wrestling. It took a lot of cooperation between the
two of them, and he got to know the other actor a bit.
After a morning of shooting, he went to get some
lunch, and invited the other actor along. Still in full makeup,
they went to a cafe around the corner from the set. The waitresses
were used to all sorts of “characters” coming in.
They sat down to lunch, and Rex said, “I’m sorry
man, I didn’t catch your name.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’m Adam.”
Rex held out his hand. “Nice to meet you Adam.”
When they shook hands, he thought Adam’s hand was rather cold and
clammy. He had expected the feel of makeup. It didn’t smudge
though, so it must be some new, good stuff. Or a coating to help
keep it on. At any rate, it worked well.
“So what’s your wife think about your work?”
asked Rex in an effort to start conversation.
“I’m not married anymore,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” said Rex. “I’m divorced myself,
twice already. Women, you can’t live with ‘em, huh?”
“Heh, yeah,” said Adam. “Can live without them
though.” Rex thought he sounded a little sad, but he assumed he
just had a dry sense of humor.
“No doubt,” said Rex. “My last wife cleaned me
out good. Took the kids too, of course. You have any kids?”
Now he was sure Adam was down. “I do, two girls.
They’re six and eight.” He pulled out his wallet and showed him a
picture of two darling little girls hugging like best friends. “I’m
not allowed to see them any more though.”
“I’m sorry, man.” Rex said, “I didn’t mean to
bring up a sore subject.” Then talk turned to sports. They compared
their favorite sports and teams and were surprised to find they
liked the same team. “I played a little soccer in high school
myself,” said Rex.
“Me too, and even some in college. Wish I could
still play, but I can’t take the chance. Don’t want to lose a leg
or something.”
Rex laughed. “We should go catch a game
sometime.”
“Man, I wish I could.” Adam looked at his watch.
“We probably should be getting back.”
Over the next few weeks, Rex was really becoming
good friends with Adam. And the studio must have liked Adam’s work,
because they kept him on. In fact, Rex noticed that they kept all
the same extras as zombies and just changed their costumes. He
figured the studio was probably just trying to save money.
Perhaps they spent it all on the makeup artists,
because the makeup was fantastic. Even in the scene where he opens
up a fire hydrant to blow the zombies away with water, not a bit of
the special effects came off.
One morning, Rex stopped at a coffee shop on the
way to the studio and ran into Adam.
“Oh man, I’m like a zombie before my coffee,”
Rex said.
“Heh, yeah, me too.” Alex had the same sad
disposition to him that he had when he joked. Rex was having a hard
time getting used to it.
“Looks like you’ve been hard at work already,”
said Rex. “You’re in makeup and everything. Did they already shoot
some this morning?”
“No, not yet.”
“Ah, you’re a method actor. I have a lot of
respect for that. Really put yourself into the role.” Adam
interrupted him when his drink was called and said he’d see him on
set.
By the end of the shoot, Rex realized how good
of a friend he had in Adam. On the last day on set, he surprised
Adam with two tickets to their favorite soccer team’s championship
game.
“Oh wow, this is great, thanks,” said Adam with
less enthusiasm than Rex expected.
He hadn’t expected his friend to take the last
day on set so badly. Then he started thinking that Adam was going
home to an empty house, and this was probably the last paycheck for
him until he got another gig. It was okay for him to be depressed,
Rex thought.
After filming was over, Rex did miss his friend,
but they would talk over the phone often. He was looking forward to
the game, but that morning, Adam called and said he wasn’t feeling
well and couldn’t make it.
Rex called him the next day and wanted to make
it up to him. “Let me take you to lunch,” he said.
“That might not be a good idea,” said Adam.
“Ah, got another gig? That’s awesome. How about
dinner instead?”
Adam reluctantly agreed.
That evening, Adam must have come to the
restaurant straight from work because he was in full makeup. Rex
was kind of hoping he wouldn’t be, because he had reservations at a
nice restaurant. The makeup must have been done by the same artists
though, so Rex figured it probably took a lot of time to take
off.
After dinner, they said their goodbyes, and Adam
waved down a cab across the street. As he crossed the street,
another cab pulled out unexpectedly and hit Adam straight on. Not
only did it knock him down, the inattentive cabbie drove over him
entirely.
“Oh my god, call 911!” yelled Rex as he rushed
to his friend’s aid.
To his astonishment, Adam stood up and brushed
himself off while mumbling something about tire marks. “It’s a
miracle,” cried Rex.
“Actually, no it isn’t,” admitted Adam. Rex gave
him a confused look. “I have to admit something to you... I’m
really a zombie.”
“That’s not possible,” said Rex, astonished.
“You’re so nice.” Adam nodded. “You eat regular meals.” Adam
nodded. “You’ve never tried to kill me.” Adam nodded. “You’re just
like everyone else.”
“Exactly,” said Adam. “I just don’t have a
heartbeat.”
Rex thought it over, then said, “Well, how about
a drink then?”
****
Not A Snow Day
The
ground was entirely clear that morning before I went into work. The
forecast for the day was a slight chance of light flurries. So I
put on my usual work attire of a button down shirt, a jacket, a
knee length skirt, stockings and heels.
The skirt was my favorite one. It was a rusty
color with a faint pattern of little black flowers spread across
it. It was flouncy without being too playful. I always got
compliments on it when I wore it. It looked great with a pair of
black stockings and my matching red linen textured heels.
The day was just a normal day at work. I clocked
in, started my computer, got a cup of coffee, and then answered
emails until the nine-o-clock meeting. At the morning meeting, some
of us were asked to come to an afternoon meeting. Great.
Lunch was uneventful, just a microwave diet
dinner, warmed up, then eaten at my desk. I was actually able to
get a bit done and satisfy my clients before the afternoon meeting
at three.
The meeting took forever, and I felt like I
didn’t even need to be at it. Oh well, such is office life. When we
walked out of the windowless conference room said, “Oh wow, it
snowed.”
It sure had. A lot. There was about six inches
on the cars. In fact, not only had it snowed, but it was mixed with
freezing rain. I looked down at my shoes. There was no way I was
going to be able to get out to my car and clean it all off without
ruining them. I thought about taking them off, but I didn’t think I
would be able to stand in my stocking feet in the snow for that
long.
As the clock ticked closer to five and I was
wrapping up for the day, I wracked my brain trying to think of how
I could clean off the car. Maybe I could get someone to take me to
the drugstore down the block. At the very least it would have a
scraper, since I remembered that mine was still in the garage. I
was unsure of the possibility of the store having any sort of
footwear though.
When closing time came, I walked outside ready
to snag someone I knew to see if they would be willing to give me a
ride to the store. I didn’t need to bother. Starting from the first
row by the entrance, all the cars had been cleared off and the lot
plowed and shoveled.
With everyone else, I looked around to see who
could have done it. At the end of the last row of cars was a zombie
in snow gear cleaning off the last couple cars. I went up to him
and said, “Thank you.”
“Oh, you’re welcome,” he said, like it was no
big deal. “Usually I just shovel while the plow driver clears the
big areas, but he had to take the plow in for gas. I figured I’d
just shovel while waiting for him to come back, but I finished
everything up. So I thought I’d clear off the cars too.”
“I really appreciate it. I wasn’t looking
forward to scraping my windshield while in this outfit,” I said
sheepishly.
The zombie looked at me. “Yeah, that would’ve
been cold. Well, have a nice day.”
I resolved to pay him back. The next time it
snowed and the plow needed to come, I was ready. As soon as I heard
the truck in the parking lot, I went into action.
I had brought along my homemade hot cocoa mix.
Grabbing my mug, I went into the kitchen and cleaned it out first,
of course. Then I filled it with milk and stuck it in the microwave
until it was nice and hot. Then I stirred in the cocoa mix, and
even topped it with big marshmallows.
The zombie was just finishing the last of
shoveling when I brought the cup out to him. “Thank you for all
your hard work. Here’s something to warm you up,” I said.
“Wow, thank YOU,” he said.
“I just wanted to let you know that we really
appreciate the work you do.”
****
Hope Lies with the Children
On the Friday after Thanksgiving, I
took my son with me shopping.
Normally I don’t take my son out with me,
especially on one of the busiest days of the year, but I wanted him
to learn a valuable lesson.
The night before, we heard all these horror
stories on the news about Black Friday sales at large retailers.
Most of them showcased a lack of compassion in a frenzy of good
deals. I wanted him to see a better side of humanity.
So instead of going to the big box stores, my
son and I started our Christmas shopping at local businesses
instead. We were greeted warmly by all the clerks and shop
owners.
The worst part of the day was when my son lost
his teddy bear. Even though he’s six, I was still having a hard
time separating him from that bear. But when we got into the
kitchen store, he looked down to find BooBoo Bear missing. He was
immediately inconsolable.
We went back to the store we had just come from
and looked all around, but we couldn’t find it. We asked the
cashier and anyone else who looked familiar, even the zombie
browsing the snow globes, but no one had seen it.
I finally got him settled down enough to
continue shopping. We went back to the kitchen store, got the few
gifts I wanted to get there, and stood in line to check out. I had
resolved that we would go home as soon as we got checked out.
Then the zombie from the other store came in the
door, looked around, saw us, and approached my son. He kneeled down
to be eye level with him and said, “It took a while to find him,
but I was eventually successful.” He pulled his hand from behind
his back.
“BooBoo Bear!” my son cried, grabbing his teddy
bear. “Thank you mister!”
After that day, no six year old was a bigger
zombie rights activist than my son. It took him a while to realize
that zombies were often treated differently than us. When he did,
any time he saw any signs of zombie discrimination, he would yell,
“That’s no fair!”
The week before Christmas, he asked me, “Mommy,
can we get a present for the man who found BooBoo Bear for me?”
“I’m sorry honey,” I said, “We don’t know that
man’s name or where he lives.”
“Oh,” said my son, obviously disappointed.
I thought a moment and said, “But I have an
idea. Why don’t we take presents to the Home for the Differently
Animated for all the poor zombies there?”
“Okay!” he said, and immediately we went to work
to figure out what they might like.
He couldn’t even wait until the next day to go
shopping. So went we went out that night and stocked up on candy
bars and festive socks and holiday sweaters and Santa Claus hats,
and CDs and books and movies.
We went to the zombies the next day. My son went
around passing out the gifts to all the patients. They were all
delighted to see him and very thankful for the gifts.
He insisted that we give to the zombies every
year afterwards. Now that he is grown, he does the same thing with
his son.
****
The Diner
It was a
cold, clear night in January, and I had just worked a double shift
at the hospital. I had skipped lunch and was starving.
On the way home, I stopped at the diner on my
way home and just got a hamburger to go.
Walking back out to my car, a man was passing by
on the street. He saw me and stopped to ask if I could spare some
change for a meal. His coat was so worn that the fabric was see
through, where there was fabric at least. His pants weren’t fairing
as well, and the right leg was barely hanging on at all.