Thursday, February 26, 2009

A Tragedy in Three Acts

In Which Emmie Should Have Paid More Attention At The Store

Setting: An apartment kitchen. Cluttered. Possible post-expiration date yogurt in the fridge.

Emmie, a 30-something saucy redhead, has mixed together a delicious marinade for chicken. She places the raw chicken into a ziplock bag, and carefully pours the marinade in after it.

Suddenly, chicken-contaminated marinade begins to run all over her cluttery kitchen counter. She yelps.

Emmie: Yelp!

And grabs for another bag, her hands covered in chickeny lemon mustard goop. The new bag does nothing to help. She calls for her husband.

Emmie: Stu! There are holes in both of these ziplock bags!!

The handsome and fluffy-haired Stu comes bounding in, his ever trusty Dr. Pepper in hand. He quickly helps Emmie clean up the mess. As they try to figure out something new to eat for dinner, Emmie posits:

Emmie: What are the odds of two ziplocks both having holes? (She scrutinizes the ziplock box.) Wait a minute. What the . . . ? Ziplock Double Zipper with Moisture Vents? What are moisture vents?

She pulls out another bag. Then another. Each bag is dotted with tiny holes. She shows the box to Stu.

Stu: Why would anyone think it was a good idea to market bags with holes in them?

Emmie: I don't know. I just don't know.

In Which Emmie Shouldn't Have Hit Snooze That Second Time

Emmie stands in her bathroom, curling her saucy red hair in haste. She woke up late (well, technically she woke up on time, but then went back to sleep). Suddenly, the red hot curling iron slips from her grasp and lands on her lily white neck before hitting the ground with a crash. Emmie yelps.

Emmie: Yelp!

And looks in the mirror to see a ridiculously large red welt appear in a spot too high up for a turtleneck to disguise.

Emmie: Drat.

In Which Emmie Really Should Have Known Better

Late for work, our heroine quickly grabs some ice from the freezer and throws it into a ziplock bag before racing out the door and hopping into her car. Speeding down the freeway, she holds the frozen bag to the welt on her neck. Suddenly, she senses a river of ice water pooling at her collar and running down her sweater. Emmie yelps.

Emmie: Yelp!

And looks at the plastic bag in her hand. The bag with moisture vents.


Emmie sits at her desk. She attempts to holds a new ice pack to her neck in as discreet a manner as possible, while also trying to dry her sweater with a paper towel.

Emmie's Co-Worker: What happened to you this morning??

Emmie: A curling iron. And moisture vents.

-The Curtain Falls-