We're Getting the Band Back Together
She had done just as everyone had predicted. Paula rose quickly through the ranks of her school district and become the youngest superintendent in the history of the county. But not everything was coming up roses. Early into her tenure, Paula was faced with a most troubling problem. The teachers were fed up with their pay and ready to strike.
One evening, Paula and her board members held a meeting with the teachers. The teachers were in such a fury over months of dead-end negotiating that it seemed nothing Paula would say would be enough to satisfy them.
One of the teachers stepped up to the microphone to voice his displeasure. "All we're asking for is a five percent cost-of-living increase. Marin county did the same thing two years ago and things have been just fine since then."
"I would love to give you that raise," said Paula. "But we just don't have it in our budget. The state won't increase our funding because of the students' low test scores."
"Oh, so now it's our fault the students are failing," exclaimed one of the teachers in the crowd.
"That isn't what I said," replied Paula. "Look, the only other way we could afford to give the teachers raises is if we slash other programs in our budget."
"Then do it," said the teacher at the microphone. "We don't need to be feeding these kids. Let them brown bag it from now on. Worked for me when I was a kid. Besides, have you seen the size of some of them? Free food is not something these kids need."
"That could lead to a lawsuit," said Paula. "We are obligated to feed our students a nutritional, well-balanced lunch every day at school, whether you like it or not."
"A lawsuit?" asked the teacher. "Wait till one of those S.O.B.'s sits on one of us. Now, that's gonna lead to a lawsuit."
Feeling utterly helpless, Paula began rubbing her throbbing head. And it was then when she noticed Mrs. Wainwright. She had been a teacher in the district for over four decades and was the most respected of them all.
"Mrs. Wainwright, please talk some sense into the other teachers," pleaded Paula.
Raising her rickety frame out of her chair, Mrs. Wainwright made her way to the microphone.
"Mrs. Wainwright, you've been a teacher in our district for over forty years," said Paula. "You've been through situations like this before. If anyone can come up with a solution to this problem, I know it's you."
Mrs. Wainwright cleared her throat, lowered the microphone to her level and proceeded to speak. "You're a cunt," she said, prompting the other teachers to cheer.
Paula gasped loudly and her eyes ballooned to nearly twice their size. "Mrs. Wainwright," exclaimed Paula. "How can you say that? You were the first teacher to welcome me on my first day on the job. You hugged me and gave me a basket of cookies."
"I took a shit in those cookies," replied Mrs. Wainwright. "I knew you were going to be a cunt from the moment I heard they were hiring you." This resulted in the teachers once again cheering loudly. "You asked for my advice? Well, here's my advice. Striiiiiiike!" This resulted in the loudest cheer of all, followed by the teachers marching out of the room.
One of the board members turned to Paula, a look of extreme anger on his face. "You had better have a back-up plan," he growled.
Paula sunk in her chair, as there was no back-up plan in place. She had foolishly over-valued the persuasiveness of her negotiating skills.
As had become common-place for some bizarre reason, Sam found himself downtown resting against the back wall of a convenience store. Beside him was a homeless man.
"You ever seen the inside of a baseball?" asked the homeless man.
"Yeah, I've seen the inside of a baseball," replied Sam.
"No you haven't, you fucking liar," exclaimed the homeless man.
"Whoa, where did that come from?" asked Sam. "I'm telling you, I've seen the inside of a baseball. There's a little red ball in the center and a bunch of string that's wound around it. I've seen it with my own two eyes."
The homeless man immediately pulled a knife out of his pocket. "Alright you son-of-a-bitch! You'd better tell me why you decided today was the day you were going to bullshit me to the point of no return! Or I'm gonna cut your face off and wear it as a mask and wear it around this Halloween. And when people ask me 'what are you, little boy?' I'm gonna tell them I'm the mother fucker that can't stop telling lies, so give me a full-sized Three Musketeers!"
Having always been quick on his feet, Sam came up with an answer he was sure would calm the raging homeless man. "It's 'cause one of my arms is longer than the other. And if you pull on the shorter one it gets longer and the longer one gets shorter," replied Sam.
"Damn," said the homeless man, putting the knife back from whence it had come. "I didn't know. This whole time, I had no idea I was talking to a guy that was built like a circus freak. I guess I just assumed you were normal."
"Well, I'm a freak, okay?" replied Sam. "That's why I tell people lies, to keep them from finding out."
"I'm sorry," said the homeless man, reaching his hand toward Sam.
Sam jerked away and quickly got back to his feet. "No," he exclaimed. "We can never go back to what we once had." And with that, Sam took his leave.
Barry and Joe were outside a local bakery going over their latest get-rich-quick scheme.
"Okay, explain to me how we're gonna do this," said Joe.
"What we're gonna do is go in there and order a cake," explained Barry. "But not just any cake. We're gonna order the gayest wedding cake this one-horse town has ever seen. In big pink letters, it's gonna say 'Happy Gay Wedding'. And it's gonna be in the shape of a big, fat penis. And when the baker refuses to make the cake, we're gonna go to the media and then we're gonna sue them right into the poor house."
"But I don't want to destroy anybody," said Joe.
"They're gonna be fine," Barry assured him. "They'll set up a Go Fund Me page and come out with more money than they ever could have imagined. These right-wingers really like to stick together, not like those fickle liberals, always stabbing each other in the back when they find out their friends have a better kale garden than them."
"Okay, let's do this," said Joe.
The two entered the bakery and were immediately greeted by a woman behind the counter. "Hi guys," she said. "What can I help you with today?"
"We need a wedding cake," said Barry, giving Joe a sly look.
"Great," said the woman. "Give me all the details."
"It's for a gay wedding," said Barry. "We want it to say 'Happy Gay Wedding' in big pink letters."
"Penis," blurted out Joe.
"And we want the cake shaped like a penis."
"Fun," said the woman.
"What?" asked Barry. "Aren't you going to tell us how offended you are by our cake and then throw us out?"
"Of course not," replied the woman. "Guys, we're known for being the town's biggest lesbian run bakery. I would consider it an honor to make this cake for you."
Barry and Joe spun around to speak in private.
"Shit," said Barry. "How did I not figure that Muff's Muffins was a lesbian bakery?"
"What are we gonna do?" asked Joe.
"Plan B."
"Plan B?" asked Joe. "What's Plan B? We never went over any Plan B. We assumed Plan B was foolproof."
Barry and Joe spun back around to face the woman.
"I'm sorry," said Barry. "I mis-remembered the message that was supposed to go on the cake. I failed to dot an I. What I want the cake to say is, 'Happy Straight Wedding. The Only Wedding God Recognizes'. How about that?"
"What are you doing?" whispered Joe.
"It's the same thing," Barry whispered back. "She'll refuse, we sue and make bank."
"Great," said the woman. "You still want that written in big pink letters?"
"What?" asked Barry, who was more than a bit surprised by what he had heard.
"You still want your message written in big pink letters? On a big, penis shaped cake?"
"You're still gonna make the cake for us?"
"Of course," replied the woman. "We don't discriminate here. We bake our cakes for everyone."
"Change of plans," said Barry. "We want the cake to now read, 'Happy Child Bride Wedding'."
The woman looked as if she was about to refuse and Barry knew he had her right where he wanted her.
"I don't completely agree with that type of arrangement," said the woman. "But nevertheless, I will make your cake."
"Is nothing sacred to you?!" shouted Barry. "What the fuck won't you put on a cake?!"
With surprising strength, the woman threw both Barry and Joe out of the bakery.
"Well, chalk one more up to a local shopkeep," said Joe.
"Don't worry," said Barry. "We'll still get the last laugh. I'm gonna roast her hard on YELP."
Sam had met up with Matt at their favorite cafe.
"So how'd your interview go?" asked Sam.
"Not good," replied Matt. "They didn't really like the fact that I have a record."
"Sorry, man," said Sam. "I can't help but feel like your life would have turned out better if you had never gotten mixed up with me."
"Nah, it's not your fault," replied Matt. "People don't know the real you. You're a good guy beneath the surface."
"Nah, that's not true. I mean, why you do you even like me?" asked Sam. "I'm a piece of shit."
"You're not a piece of shit. You're okay in my book."
"Of course I'm a piece of shit. Remember that time I convinced that slow guy that if he ate four quarters he would shit out a dollar bill? If it weren't for those damn boy scouts walking by he probably would have done it. Or how about that time I saw that guy that had won the lottery in that restaurant so I took a shit and put it between two pieces of bread and tried to serve it to him. If I hadn't dropped it on the floor, he probably would have eaten it."
"Yeah, those are actually pretty good examples."
"Or how about me constantly getting busted for masturbating to breast-feeding videos on youtube at the library?" added Sam. "I don't know why they get so mad at me. I use the computer at the back of the room."
"You mean the one next to the kids' section?" asked Matt.
"Yeah, that one," replied Sam. "Oooooh, I see where you're going with that."
Barry and Joe arrived and took their seats at the table.
"So are you millionaires yet?" asked Sam, whose sly smile showed that he already knew the answer.
"No," replied Barry. "She saw through our plan."
"It's like lesbians are our kryptonite," said Joe. "No matter how hard we try, we can never outsmart them."
"And we can never turn them," said Barry. "One of these days, I'm going to make one of those short-haired goddesses mine."
The waitress arrived. "You two gonna order something?" she asked Barry and Joe. It was obvious to everyone there that the pair would not be ordering anything, because the two never spent their money there.
"Just two of your most complimentary waters," replied Joe.
The waitress rolled her eyes and departed.
"Okay, after she gives us our waters, I'll distract her while you fill the glasses up with soda," Barry told Joe.
"Trusting people not to fill their water glasses with free soda," said Joe. "When will these Christian run businesses learn?"
Much to the surprise of the entire group, Paula appeared at their table.
"Well, I'll be," said Sam. "There's only one reason why you would come to see us. You need our help. But what kind of help could a fine, upstanding woman such as yourself need with a bunch of societies cast-offs?"
"Maybe she's dying," said Matt. "And she needs one of us to donate a kidney or something."
"No, she needs us to kill someone for her," said Sam. "But who? Perhaps the mailman has been blackmailing her for sex, the same way he did with me."
Paula took a deep breath before addressing the others. "Okay, I will admit, it's been a long time since I've had any contact with the four of you," she said. "Although I was advised to stay away from you from both my therapist and local law enforcement. But I do need your help."
"Sam was right," said Joe. "We're gonna have to kill someone. Time for us to grow some mustaches."
"Now, as hard as it is to believe," said Paula, "the four of you all have college degrees. Which makes you candidates for the problem that I need help with."
"Your expression and tone of voice tells me that you don't really want our help," said Sam. "I can thank my college degree and all those useless Psychology classes for that."
"It's not that I don't want your help," said Paula. "It's just that you guys were pretty low on the totem pole of people I had the option of asking."
"How low on the totem pole?" asked Matt.
"You four were at the very bottom," replied Paula. "I tried many places before I came to you. I tried online, and that led me to Craigslist. And I'm not going to discuss what happened because of Craigslist. I tried the bus depot. A bunch of very angry homeless people ran me off. I tried asking some grad students. They said I was invading their safe space by asking such a horrible question. I then went back to the bus depot, where I was again run off. And then I came to you."
"And after all those people she came to us," said Matt.
"Yup, she still loves us," said Sam.
Matt was first to interview with Paula the next day. "Don't be nervous," said Paula. "Nothing's changed. I'm still the same Paula that you knew all those years ago."
"I'm not nervous," replied Matt, who was perspiring and breathing extremely heavy.
"So how have you been?" asked Paula.
"I've been good. Just taking odd jobs here and there. Hanging with my buds every chance I get."
"Why?" asked Paula. "Why didn't you break free from him when you had the chance?"
"Who?" asked Matt.
"You know exactly who I'm talking about," said Paula. "How could you let Sam drag you down with him? You were always too nice a guy to be hanging around the likes of him. And the other two, they're just as bad as Sam. The only difference is they might bathe a little more often than him."
"They're not so bad," said Matt. "And Sam, what can I say about Sam? He gave me a place to live."
"He moved you into his apartment and then let you start paying all the rent."
"Yes, that's true," said Matt. "But he was the one who found a great apartment for crazy low rent."
"It was crazy low rent because an entire family was slaughtered there and they never caught the guy who did it. They practically had to give that place away."
"Sometimes you can hear gentle sobbing at night," said Matt. "Still not sure if it's a poltergeist or Sam."
"We were always the only normal ones in the group," said Paula. She then looked upward. "There's probably a special place in heaven for me for keeping you guys from killing yourselves or killing someone else."
For some reason, Barry and Joe interviewed together. "I don't know why you two insisted on doing this together," said Paula.
"Because I don't answer any questions without having my lawyer present," said Barry.
"Joe isn't your lawyer," said Paula. "He's not a lawyer, period."
"You don't have to have a fancy law degree to be a lawyer," said Joe. "How about all those people that represent themselves in court?"
"You mean all those people who lose their cases because they don't know the first thing about how the legal system works?" asked Paula.
"Exactly," replied Barry. "We're just like those people."
"Anyway," said Paula. "Let's get to the interview. So, are the two of you married?"
"I told you," exclaimed Joe. "With all the time that we spend together, people were gonna think we were a couple. I told you, let's just take one vacation apart from each other, but you said nooo. We would miss each other too much."
"Oh, she's just going by what they wrote about us in our high school yearbook," said Barry.
"That's not what I meant," said Paula. "I was trying to ask if either of you were married to someone other than each other."
"Oh, well . . . we don't know," said Barry.
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"We're sort of married," said Joe. "If that makes sense."
"No," replied Paula. "That doesn't make sense. Why don't you clue me in as to what you mean?"
"Well, we married these two Moldovian mail-order-brides," said Barry. "And at first things were really great. They would let us buy them things and take them to expensive restaurants."
"And we'd let them stay out all night if they wanted to," added Joe. "But now . . ."
"But now what?" asked Paula.
"We kind of don't know where they are," said Barry. "But we know they're coming back soon."
"And how do you know that?" asked Paula.
"Because they took all our furniture," said Joe. "I mean, where are they gonna put it? They need to come back to us so they'll have a place to put all of it."
"I mean, two years is a long time to not have anywhere to put your furniture," added Barry, who along with Joe, looked to be on the brink of tears.
After Barry and Joe were done, Sam took his place before Paula's desk.
"Okay, I hope we can keep this professional," said Paula.
"Hey, professional is my middle name," said Sam before putting his feet up on Paula's desk. "Sam Professional Shedd. That's what they call me."
"Get your feet off my desk," said Paula, prompting Sam to do as he was told. "So, let's not make this last any longer than it has to. Are you married?"
"Nah, I never went down that road," replied Sam. "But I have dated a ton of girls."
"Oh, you've had lots of girlfriends?"
"No, I haven't dated that many women, only a few. But they were all really fat."
Paula let out a less than amused laugh. "Still the charmer, I see," she said under her breath.
"I was hoping that subject would come up," said Sam. "I've been waiting months to use that joke."
"Any kids?" asked Paula. "God help us if you say yes," she said under her breath.
"Nah, I don't really like kids," said Sam.
"Perfect for this job then," Paula once again said under her breath.
"What's with all the questions anyway?" asked Sam. "You writing my biography or something? Spoiler alert: the ending is gonna have a lot of screaming and a whole lot of fire."
"I'm asking you all these questions because this is a job interview," replied Paula.
"Pretty personal questions for a job interview," said Sam. "You sure you're just not curious about how our lives turned out after you ditched us?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about?"
"Look, let's just forget about the interview. We both know I'm gonna get the job," said Sam. "So let's talk benefits. I want two 401k's and a Roth IRA, whatever that is."
"You'll get a hundred twenty dollars a day and all the coffee creamer you can drink in the break room," replied Paula. "And what makes you so sure that you're going to get the job?"
"Because you need me," replied Sam. "You've always needed me. Just like when we were younger."
"I've never needed you," said Paula.
"Of course you did. Without me your life wouldn't have turned out the way that it did. So as I see it, you kind of owe me, like big time. So let's just sign these papers and get this charade over with. I'm a very busy man."
"Owe you? Owe you what? Payback? Should I make your life miserable the way you made mine miserable?"
"What the hell are you talking about? You so owe me. Who knows what would have become of you if not for me. How about you lose the attitude and show some gratitude."
"I had to work twice as hard as other people to get to this point because of you," said Paula. "You're like a whirlpool of misery. You just suck down everyone that's around you. That's what you did with our group. And for some reason, they stand by you, like a cult leader or something."
"Hey, I was cleared of those charges!"
"No, you're more like a parasite," said Paula. "You feed off of others. You need those guys way more than they need you. That's how it's always been."
"Yup, nothing's changed," said a now angry Sam. "You're still the same judgemental sophomaniac."
"How do you even know that word?"
"Because I knew when dealing with you, something like this was going to happen," replied Sam. "So I came prepared with a bunch of big words."
"You know what, you're not a parasite," said Paula. "You're just a loser."
"What?" asked Sam, who was quite taken aback by the extra bluntness Paula was now showing.
"Yeah, you're a loser. You had all this potential, but you wasted it. You just wanted to barely scrape by. And if you had to suck, then everyone else had to suck right along with you."
"Acquiesce," said Sam. "I acquiesce this."
"You don't want things to get better. You're happy being stuck in your pathetic little rut. Those poor parents of yours. How do they put up with you?"
"Hey, if not for me keeping them on their toes, they'd probably be in a retirement home right now drooling into a cup."
"I know when to admit I was wrong," said Paula.
"Yes, you were," said Sam.
"I was wrong to offer this job to you. You probably would have ended up blowing up the school or something. I think it would be best if you just left."
"No," exclaimed Sam, lunging at the contract on Paula's desk. "This is a legally binding contract. You have to honor it if I sign it."
Paula put up no effort to stop Sam from signing the contract. "Well, I guess you showed me," said Paula.
"Yeah, I showed you," said Sam. He then grabbed a handful of cookies from Paula's desk and departed, making sure to never turn his back on Paula as he did.
Paula looked upward. "There had better be a really nice place for me up there," she said.
Paula then noticed the plate of cookies on her desk. She left her office to ask her secretary about them. "Darla, who sent me those cookies?" she asked.
"Oh, Mrs. Wainwright stopped by," said Darla. "She wanted to wish you luck on the search for replacement teachers."
"My dear lord," said Paula.
Later that day Sam and the others met up behind Sam's favorite convenience store.
"Can you believe what sweet jobs we landed?" asked Barry.
"Yeah, they just fell right into our laps," said Joe.
As they conversed, the guys munched on cookies.
"These cookies are really good," said Matt. "Where'd you get them?"
"I stole them from Paula's desk," said Sam. "I don't know what, but there's an extra ingredient in here, and it's the best thing I've ever tasted."
Is it over? It looks more like an excerpt rather than a story. I was expecting it to be longer.
yuh