Dream On
Crisp blue dress shirt, matching tie, black over the calf socks; that’s it?
“What do you think you’re doing, Davis? Get some pants on right now.”
“Don’t worry, sir,” I reply calmly, “I think this is one of those really weird dreams brought on by frustrations with my work situation, coupled with some unresolved sexual issues.” I don’t know where the heck that came from. It sounded like I was quoting lines from an article that would be found in one of those cheap tabloids at the grocery store checkout.
“One of us sure as hell better be dreaming or you might be looking for a new job,” he snorted.
Just then, Jennifer, one of my co-workers, walked up to us without a stitch of clothing on.
“I’ll take it from here, Mr. Paine, you see, this is my dream. Come along with me, Bill, I need some help getting some things from the supply room.”
Mr. Paine stomped off. Or rather, he tried to stomp off. It’s hard to stomp when you’re wearing flip-flops.
The Audition
Casting sent too many again. I’ve got parts for three extras and they send ten actors. I haven’t got time to audition each one. I’m getting too old for this. So, I’ll sift and winnow.
“Okay, who wants to go to bed with me tonight?”
Three hands shoot up.
“You three can leave. Next time try to keep your hormones under control. Alright, moving right along, who likes jelly donuts?”
Two hands slowly snake into the air.
“Good, you’re Cashier One and you’re Cashier Two.”
“Geez Louise,” a frustrated whisper drifts from the back.
“That’s it; you’re Irate Customer. We’re done here.”
Roy Dorman is a retired from the University of Wisconsin-Benefits Office. He has been a voracious reader for almost 60 years. At the prompting of an old high school friend, himself a retired English teacher, Roy is now also a voracious writer.
