Road Trip
“Are we there yet?”
“Um, not quite, no. But almost.”
“Are we there yet?”
“It’s right there ahead of us. Why do you keep asking me that? You can see it for yourself.”
“Are we there yet?”
“Stoooop asking me!”
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“No.”
“Are we there yet?”
“I will kill you in your sleep.”
“Aha! But you see, there’s a flaw in your plan. Your devious scheme, as it were: I am not asleep.”
“But you will be. We’ll get to the hotel and you’ll forget all about this, and eventually you’ll close your eyes and drift off. And then? And then?”
He draws his hand, clutching an invisible knife, across his throat while making a sound that is both wet and screechy. He continues the pantomime about ten steps further than anyone else ever would. There’s staggering, falling, a whole death scene. It’s one of the reasons I love him – this willingness to carry a joke all the way out; his willingness to sacrifice any sense of dignity or decorum for the sake of the joke, and before it’s all over I’m on my ass from the laughing. Or I would be, if I let myself.
“Are you done?”
“Mmm… yep. Yep, I’m pretty sure that’s it.”
“See, that’s all very nice, and I’m sure in some universe or other it could happen that way, but – once again – you fail to take into consideration the most basic of circumstances. The most obvious of flies in your ointment, as the case may be.”
“You can’t pretend you’ll never sleep – I mean you will sleep at some point. So what is it this time, this thing I’ve overlooked?”
“You adore me.”
“I adore you.”
“Yes. You adore me, therefore you couldn’t possibly bring yourself to…”
I run through the Cliff Notes version of his murder scene – slash/stagger/fall – then hold up my hands so he can pull me to my feet.
“Right? Of course right. I win.”
“I don’t know. I don’t know. Even if I adore you, as you say, how far does this adoration go, anyway? I mean, you’re being pretty annoying with all this ‘are we there yet?’ crap. It might be enough annoyance to warrant a murder in spite of all this alleged adoration.”
“You should just admit that you adore me. It would make things ever so much easier.”
“Adore? What door? This door?”
“You adore me.”
“Sometimes. Maybe.”
“You adore me.”
“Less and less by the minute.”
“Adore.”
Rivka Jacobs
Well, this made me smile. Then I realized, they aren’t really travelling anywhere, because they are acting out pantomime death scenes. So, the “Are we there yet,” takes on a whole new meaning. As in, “are we there at the apotheosis of our relationship yet,” or, “have we reached that point where we are a comfortable couple.”
They seem like a great couple, though — this couple with all dialog and some action!
As usual, you write fantastic dialog, and you’re able to convey the psychological underpinnings of the characters through their dialog.
Fun to read!
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Nicolas Papaconstantinou
Very natural and oddly romantic, Cyn… Self-contained, but feels like it fits with some of your other pieces, too.
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Andrew Cheverton
What’s interesting with these dialogue stories is that there’s no narrative, therefore no feeling of time passing, and – in the strictest sense – no story. Yet much is conveyed through the words spoken. Stories without story. It’s clever stuff.
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