Saturday, September 27, 2008
Overheard in my eye doctor's office, 11:30 a.m.: A one-act documentary play
Characters:
The office manager -- Male, 50s.
The 20-something office assistant -- Female, 20-something.
Me -- Me.
The play:
Office manager: Did you hear? Paul Newman died.
20-something office assistant: Paul Newman ... was he in the Beatles?
Me: [Stunned silence]
THE END.
(P.S.: I need new glasses.)
(P.P.S: I should point out that we walked her through some of Newman's biggest titles, and none of them rang a bell -- or, at least, she hadn't seen them. She was, however, familiar with his salad dressing.)
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Setting:
Roller Rink in Eastern PA, Mid '80's.
The Players:
Roller Rink DJ: woman, mid 40's (in the Mid '80's)
Me: Me (early 20's in the Mid '80's)
The Play:
Me: Do you have any Paul McCartney?
Roller Rink DJ: We don't have no KISS.
Me: [Stunned Silence]
THE END.
You feel about 100 years old now, don't you?
Deb: We could do a very short evening of thematically linked one-acts!
Fermi: Pretty much, yes.
Bravo! Bravo! (Stands, throws roses, then leaves theater with angry mob searching for clueless 20-somethings...)
Jim
You are simply TOO FUCKING FUNNY.
And my French is pathetic, so I can't say excuse it.
N
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