Election Day Conversation
He: Anything?
She: Of course not. It’s six AM. Why are you up?
He: Why are you up?
(She eyes him warily.)
He: Exactly. Coffee?
She: Already brewing.
He: Perfect.
(He sits.)
She: How are we supposed to get anything done?
He: I don’t know. Are we supposed to be “getting things done?” As far as I’m concerned, it’s a national holiday.
She: Well tell that to my three Zoom meetings.
(He goes to the kitchen to prepare coffee.)
He: I can write you a note.
She: Oh yeah?
He: Yeah, like my mom used to do for me. Kenneth didn’t come to school yesterday because he was filled with existential dread.
(She laughs.)
He: Of course, we can cater the note to suit your needs.
(He returns with two mugs, hands one to her.)
He: What are your symptoms?
She: Let’s see. My heart is racing. My head hurts. My stomach is in knots.
He: That sounds serious. Any coughing, sneezing, itchy eyes?
She: No.
He: Rashes?
She: Not that I’ve seen.
He: Good. Last question. Do you feel like you’ve been running towards the end of a cliff and you’re about to find out whether you stopped mid-air or if you’re safely on the edge?
(She turns to him.)
She: Oh my God, that’s exactly it. So, what do I have doc?
He: I hate to tell you this Shelly, but you have EDD, also known as Election Day Dread.
She: That sounds terrible. Is there anything I can do?
He: Well you’re lucky; we caught it early. You can call in sick to work, put on your favorite pajamas and sit here, on the couch, all day with a blanket. We’ll watch Disney movies until you feel better.
(He puts down his coffee cup and stands.)
She: Where are you going?
He: I’m getting your prescriptions. I’m thinking 50% off Halloween candy should do the trick.
She: If there’s any left.
He: I’m sure I can figure something out if it’s gone.
She: Well if you get lucky, grab every Reese’s spooky ghost you can find.
He: Will do.
(He puts his hand on her forehead.)
He: You don’t have a fever. That’s good.
(She grabs his wrist.)
He: It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure it out.
She: But this can go a very bad way.
He: I hate to tell you this, but it already has.
She: It could get worse.
He: So could everything. We’ll figure it out, no matter what happens.
(She lets him go.)
She: All the spooky ghosts you can carry.
He: Of course.
(He exits. She puts a hand to her forehead then picks up her cell phone and places a call.)
She: Hi Ted. I will not be able to work today. (Pause) Oh you’ve already called in?
Blackout.