Choosing The Perfect Card

There is no perfect card that you can buy off the rack.  There are cards that are close, but perfect cards have to be created and not purchased.  But I don't have time to make my own card. Plus all the grammar and neatness... bleck.

So instead, I will buy a card that isn't even close and turn it into The Perfect Card:

First, buy a card. It really doesn't matter what card you buy. Words on the front usually work best. This card below was for Beth and Eric's wedding. As you can see, this has very little to do with a wedding. That's fine. If you are good, you can Photoshop your edits. If you are me, you use markers.

Next, get your tools. For this card, I'll be using blue and red sharpies and a huge carpenters L thingy for drawing straight lines.  I don't know what I was thinking.



Finally, make The Perfect Card edits. remove the words that don't work, replace them with words that do.


And that is how you Chose the Perfect Card. If you want, you can print this out and edit it for your Perfect Card.

Found: Flashlight

I found a flashlight in our yard as I was mowing. It was extremely nice. When I turned it on outside, it made the sun dim a little bit. Once inside, I looked it up online and it was worth about $150. A very nice flashlight.  My immediate thought was to sell it on eBay. But I knew that this flashlight was nice enough that the person who lost it would be looking for it.  I created a cryptic post on our neighborhood website.

Found: Flashlight
"Why are you making a post about a flashlight?"
I know. It sounds silly, but it looks really cool, it's about as bright as the sun and when I looked it up online, it had a value of $100 - $200 dollars. So I assume that someone's kid borrowed it for Halloween, dropped it in my yard and some mom or dad is really sad that it is missing. If you are missing this flashlight, describe it via private message and I'll get it back to you.



Within 20 minutes I got a reply. The guy knew exactly what it was, make and model. He just lived down the block and said he could pop by.  I never thought in my life that the person would be thankful enough to make up for the quick $75 I could have made on eBay. He was so thankful. It had been a treasured gift from his son. It's a tactical flashlight. He was so distraught when he found it was missing. He is a cancer survivor. He showed me how it clicked into the special holster it came with. He is 65. He took that flashlight on all the walks with his dog at night. We shook hands. He said thanks for the third time. And he left.

Annie said he walked really fast for someone who was that old.

How to Fake Being a Beer Connoisseur

If you are like me, you don’t know anything about craft beer or imports or even the pale yellow stuff that comes in a gimmicky bottle. For the adventurous, one way of learning about beer would be to take one of the various beer tasting class where they teach you how to order, look at and smell a beer before tasting. But if you don’t have the time, do what I do: fake it.

Most people don’t care what you know about beer.  Friendly beer drinkers find out what other beers you like and make suggestions. But there’s always going to be that guy at the office or the girl who’s dating your best friend who tries to win influence and gain respect by throwing around terms like hops and Lovibond and Parnesian Slow Drip Open Cask Fermentation Technique. If you find yourself backed in a corner and you have to fake beer knowledge, follow these steps.

Ordering
It’s best to ask your beer nemesis what they suggest.  Let them make the first move. No matter what they say, just reply, “Are you going to drink that out of a tall boy PBR can?” This will A) make them second guess their choice and B) wonder for the rest of the evening what the hell you were talking about. While they are still reeling, tell the bartender you’ll have the beer that has the most animals carved into the tap.

Color
Somehow the color of beer affects the taste or the taste of the beer affects the color.  I don’t know. What I do know is that you can stare at a beer for a good long time. Take a couple angles on it: over the top, through the glass, from the bottom. Then, without a taste or a smell, send it back and ask for something else. When your companion starts to question your actions, ignore them, look at their beer and say, “Are you really going to drink that poisonous swill?”

Waft and Tent
Once another brew shows up, make a big show of smelling the beer.  I like to set the beer on the table and use both hands to shovel the air over top the glass into my face.  It’s best to make questioning noises at first and then work your way into agreement mumblings and finally full out orgasmic grunts.   Then, put both hands over top of the glass like a tent and stick your nose in the opening. Turn your head and exhale then dive right back in.  Once you are finished, proclaim that the beer is slightly earthy with an acrid tooth.

Temperature
Hold the glass to your face.  Ask the beer connoisseur at the table if the beer feels too cold. If they touch the glass with their hand to test the temperature,  say, “Oh, you don’t use the Trappist Monk technique?” If they ask what the Trappist Monk technique is, smile and say, “I’m sorry, I've said too much already.”

Taste
Here’s where it gets tough.  By this time, your beer nemesis will be thrown off by your bizarre techniques and will want to step up with their knowledge of both taste and ingredients. Let them! Just reply back to anything they say with, “I can see where you would say that,” or “I’m sure that’s probably what you were taught.”  If they start to question your questioning, just gargle the beer while they are talking and then reply, “What did you say? I couldn't hear you during my Over Tasting procedure.”  If they start talking again, gargle louder.  After about three minutes of gargling, you should look down to see that they are gone.

Congratulations! You've won. Now order a tall boy PBR and let that cold, tasteless swill join the pride that fills your belly.  But not before you give it a good tent wafting!

Five Year Obituary Tradition

Obituaries are no fun if you can’t read them, especially when it’s your own. If everyone else is like me, people like to hear about themselves, both good and bad.  Most people have a yearly review at work to let them know how they are doing. As people, we only get one review and it’s after we die.

I have an idea called the Five Year Obituary.  Every five years, someone should write your obituary. Sum up what you’ve done with your awesome/miserable life. It will either be a tear jerking, reminiscent walk down a path paved with your successes or it will make you realize that you’ve got to get your shit together before you die.

While I have suggest in the past that you should write your own obituary, I think that this one should be written by a close friend that can drop the truth on you without you being too offended by it.  You should go into this with an open mind and allow your life summation to be both a pat on the back and a kick in the butt.

A yearly obituary would be tedious. If you only reflect on your life every ten years, you won’t have good opportunities to get your hearse pointed back in the right direction. 

Find a good friend and ask them to write your obituary. What causes have you donated your time to? Where have you explored? What lives have you changed? Who looks up to you? How many hot dogs can you eat in 10 minutes and how can we get that number up by the next Five Year Obituary?

Try it and let me know how it goes.  Mine currently just has a “born on” date, so I’ve got a bit of work to do with my life.

Poly

I met Freckled Jenn and Eric at a brewery called Lineage. She suckered be in by telling me they had a Wheat beer infused with Sour Patch Kids.  I went through two sets of tires driving to the place as fast as I did.

I was the first to arrive, seeing as I drove there so fast that my car tires made the Earth rotate backwards and caused time to reverse. I ordered a Kimmy Gibbler and sat at the high table that faces the parking lot. I only had to wait as long as it took the Earth to catch up with itself for them to arrive.

Freckled Jenn was very interested to hear about my trip to Turkey. I probably talked for 30 minutes straight about salty cheese and feral cats and carpenters that didn’t know how to carpenter. Jenn is a good listener and asked good questions like, “You know that prostitution is cheating, even if you are in a different country,” and “why didn’t you just buy a new pair of underwear?”

Eric rejoined us after speaking with one of his buddies who runs the kitchen. We immediately started discussing the women of Turkey. I hadn’t  an opportunity to go looking for beautiful people, so I had not seen a whole lot. There were a few very pretty people we saw at out and about, but none that I thought were stunning. I was convinced that I wouldn’t see beautiful woman the whole time. But then on my last night, I met one of Metin’s friends. She owns a Nutella store. Holy smokes she was pretty and very nice.  She spoke english and was very interested in what we were doing in Turkey.  But Jenn was tired of hearing about other pretty girls, so we decided to have one more beer and Jenn and I went up to the bar to get a round.

At the bar, we ran into a couple who were sitting near the end. They looked like a couple, but then again, Jenn and I probably looked like a couple. We talked about Bloody Marys and buying liquor as we waiting for the bartender to take our order.  We somehow got into celery salt and Worcestershire when I made a joke about my wife and Jenn’s husband. The other couple questioned if we were a couple and then they got excited and said, “Are you poly?”

Poly. Polly? Poly!

Oh! Polyamorous. Like, we would all go back to your place and roll on the IKEA carpet? I did think it was odd that the guy kept mentioning how he was texting his girlfriend, but that the girl next to him kept affectionately rubbing his back. 

Before I had a chance to say, "yes," Jenn said no, but she heard there were poly couples in the area. Jenn had recently seen an article in 614 Magazine and was familiar. The couple didn’t act disappointed as much as they acted disappointed.  We got our drinks, said our goodbyes and went back over to Eric, telling him about our adventure.  We all stared at them sitting at the bar, waiting for them to try and absorb another couple, but instead they left to go roll on their carpet alone together.

I did end up drinking a Wheat beer infused with Sour Patch Kids. It wasn’t as good as it sounded. I'm wondering what a poly relationship of Sour Patch Kids, Swedish Fish, vodka and wheat beer would be like. Sans the carpet.

Chai, Two Lumps

I was in Turkey for three weeks working at a museum. My assumption before visiting Turkey was that I would be drinking a lot of Turkish coffee. But they don’t drink as much coffee as they do tea or, as they call it, chai. Chai was a part of everyday social interaction, business dealings and every meal. When someone offers you chai, you accept.  I did not accept on a few occasions and always ended up spending more time explaining why we couldn’t stay for chai than it would have been to just have had the drink.

Chai is served hot extremely hot. I secretly think this is so more time can be spent hanging out and talking while it cools down. Chai is traditionally served in hourglass shaped glasses so that any loose chai leaves get caught in the bottom of the glass.  

We were at the museum late one night, waiting for a shipment. In Izmit, large trucks are not allowed on the roads during the day, so we got shipments early or late. And when you are waiting for a shipment, you drink chai.  One of our interpreters, Setar, was helping with delivery and offered me chai via the security guards. I agreed and was asked how many sugars I wanted. I said two because it was late and I was considering this dessert chai. Two sugars is considered a lot.  Almost as many as three or four.  Setar then brought up a memory from his youth.  He said he remembered a Bugs Bunny cartoon where chai was being served and when Bugs Bunny’s nemesis asked for three or four sugars, Bugs hit him on the head.

Here is that clip:

I immediately found this both funny and interesting.  In the translation from English to Macedonian (I didn’t mention that Setar is 24 year old from Macedonia, moved to Turkey to go to school, showed up not speaking a bit of Turkish, was not allowed in school because he couldn’t speak the language and then worked in a restaurant over the next 6 months, picking up the language as he went along. His comment to me, “Once you know how a person is feeling, you can learn what they are saying.”) So in the translation from English to Macedonian, it was just translated as, “How many sugars to you want?” not “How many lumps do you want.” Whack. Whack. Whack. Whack.

Why is this interesting?  When I explained it to him (sugar = lumps = lumps are bumps) he “got it.” But either way, it was still something that he remembered and thought was funny, even though the actual joke was not revealed until 20 years later.   Bugs Bunny has that effect.

This is probably even more interesting because the translation in the cartoon was probably done correctly and that Setar was just humoring me with my observation.  Satar probably saw that I was proud of my clarification of the joke, knew that I was excited about my observation and that it would be best to leave it at that. Everyone happy. Everyone drinking chai.

The Rodney

I work with people that design Things and people that build Things. These people usually do not get along. The designers want the impossible and the builders want practical.  Somewhere along the way, they end up bruised and bloody, but in agreement and The Thing gets built.  The designer and the builder then go off and have a drink while the third, yet unmentioned party called the installer, takes The Thing in the field and tries to make The Thing that is too big/ too small / too upside down fit into a space that is too wet / too curved / too gravity.

The installer hates the designer and the builder because they always forget about her/him. Usually the installer ends up calling one of the two from 2000 miles away and asks them what they hell they were thinking when they designed/built The Thing. And because they are still out together having that drink, they tend to let the installer go to voice mail.

Recently, I installed A Thing as part of a much larger project. It was a decorative barrel. The designer and the builder had some really good ideas about how this engineered and scenically treated decorative barrel should look and function.  I do not think they had very many thoughts about how it would be installed. They created a steel frame that could be fastened to the wood floor with large lag screws. They made wonderful holes in the bottom the 36" tall frame in several locations so the barrel would be firmly attached.  The metal frame was connected to other barrels' metal frames so they would all hold each other up. It was a really nice design except for one item: the holes in the bottom were 36" away from the top and the metal frame inside only allowed for about 3" of access to the bottom. Imagine trying to stick a drill 36 inches though the tiny gaps in a Christmas tree made of 1" thick steel branches. It's mostly impossible unless you have a specialized tool.  So with a bit of improvisation, we created "The Rodney."  Not named for the designer or the builder, but for the guy that manages those two entities. And Rodney can take a joke.

So to get through the very small gap, 36" down to the bottom of the barrel, we purchased three 12" socket extension and a magnet.

The extensions connected to one another, but would fall apart when suspended. Using tape, I connected the three extensions together.

I then taped a magnet to the socket so that the lags would not fall off as they were lowered into the barrel. The fastener is not taped to the socket, ti just looks that way. The magnet taped to the socket holds the lag while being lowered into the barrel.

We christened it "The Rodney" and set off to try it out.

The magnet was so strong that I had problems getting it to the bottom of the barrels without it sticking to the frame.  Once the fastener did make it to the bottom and I would start the drill, the damn thing was wobbly as hell and it was difficult to get the lag to dig into the wood.  After several rough starts, the lag finally grabbed into the wood and The Rodney drove them through the frame in solidly into the floor.

There were five barrels in all and they each got a taste of The Rodney.  Then The Rodney was put on a shelf and mostly forgotten until now. In the end, it got stripped down so that we could use the magnet to fetch some metal bits from under an exhibit and someone had their own Thing to deal with and just needed one 12" extension.

No design is perfect. No fabrication technique is flawless. No installation is simple.  But when your back is against the wall and The Thing is making the situation seems hopeless, just remember that The Rodney will always be there for you.

My Pineapple Heart

I wrote a draft of a play called "My Pineapple Heart."  In acquaintance of mine (yes, I am allowed to have an acquaintance,) MaryBeth, mentioned that she had a very small pineapple (smaller than normal) and my friendquaintance (one step up from an acquaintance) Wooz was taking plays for his yearly Valentine show at St. James Tavern.  This didn't get picked, but I thought I would share. It still needs a lot of work, but this is probably the last I will ever touch it.

My Pineapple Heart

Guy

Hi, anyone sitting here?

Girl

Not anymore.

Guy

I’ve seen you here at the St. James a couple of times. 

Girl

Oh yeah, you were playing pool?

Guy

You… you noticed me?

Girl

Ha! No. It’s just that there’s a pretty good chance that anyone coming here was or is going to play pool.

Guy 

I can’t help but see that you have a pineapple strapped to your chest.

Girl

Oh? Is it noticeable?

Guy 

Well, it’s a small pineapple. Smaller than normal.

Girl

His name is Charles, but I call him Charlie.

Guy 

Do you carry it in case of a fruity drink emergency?

Girl

No.

Guy

Is it some kind of Japanese fashion trend?

Girl

No.

Guy

Did you lose a bet?

Girl

This is my heart.

Guy

Your heart?

Girl

My heart. The mass of muscle that beats endlessly and keeps us alive. My heart.

Guy

You mean it’s a symbol of your heart.

Girl

No.  My heart was taken from me.

Guy 

Stolen?

Girl

Ripped out.  Ripped right out. I was lying there on the floor about to die, but I was able to reach Charlie. Somehow, I made it though. I fashioned this sling to keep it on me.

Guy

Who took your heart?

Girl

A guy. His name is Joe.

Guy

Is he the guy you come here with?

Girl

Yeah.  Used to.

Guy

So Joe, I assume, broke up with you, took your heart and this pineapple heart is the replacement.

Girl

The pineapple is perfect for me to replace my heart. It’s smaller than normal. It’s spikey in all sorts of places. It’s ugly. The core is rough and gritty. But if you know how to work your way in there, there is sweetness inside. Was. Not sure anymore.

Guy

I’ve seen you here before.  I’ve always wanted to talk to you, but you’ve always been with a guy. With Joe.

Girl

You’ve been watching me?

Guy

Not in a creepy way.

Girl

When you watch someone more than once and you don’t say hello, it’s creepy.

Guy

I think that Joe guy would not have appreciated me coming over to say hello.

Girl

Joe didn’t appreciate much.

Guy

How long are you going to wear that?

Girl

Forever. Until I’m dead. Whichever comes first.

Guy

Listen. I’m just the creepy guy playing pool that stares as you, but you’ve got to know that there’re other guys out there.

Girl

That… that is so cheesy. 

Guy

What I mean is this: this pineapple isn’t your heart. And Joe didn’t rip it out of you. You gave it to him. You let him have it. And he broke it.

Girl

Yes. I guess you are right.

Guy

But hearts aren’t made to give. They are meant to be shared. Equally. With someone who I… someone you loves you as much as you love them.

Girl

I… I think I know what you are saying.

Guy

Yes?

Girl

I’ve been blind this whole time!

Guy

Yes!

Girl

I don’t need to give my heart away, I need to share it.

Guy

Yes! Share it!

Girl

Thank you! I’m going to go find Joe and give it another chance.  Thank you!

Guy

But! But I..

Girl

I did it all wrong  the first time around. This time, things will be different. Thank you!

(She kisses him on the cheek.)

GIRL

I don’t need this anymore. (She removes the pineapple and throws it on the bar.)

Joe! (She leaves.)

The guy stands up and watches her go. He then clutches his chest and bends over in pain.  With a gasp, he reaches for the pineapple and puts it on. 

Baby Borg

Baby Borg wants to assimilate your living room floor. Photo by @mike_denison.

Hobo Egg

Here at the HolyJuan house, the only way to get our kids to eat eggs is to make Hobo Eggs for them. I'm sure it's because it is cool looking and interactive.  Here's how we do it:

Ingredients:
Slice of bread
Butter
Egg

Tools:
Knife
Plate
Frying pan
Spataula
Narrow glass

Grab a slice of bread and put it on a plate:

Butter it, one side only:

If you try to butter both sides, you'll get most the butter sticking to the plate.  Just butter one side.

Now, get your narrow glass. Make sure it doesn't breach the crust or you will have a broken dam egg situation.  A shot glass is too small. A tumbler is too big.  I suggest a Star Wars glass. "Egg or egg not, there is no egg beaters.":

Now, force the glass down through the bread to create a tiny bread circle:

Now, go back in time and put your frying pan on the stove on medium heat.  Good! Now, drop a dollop of butter in the pan and wait for it to melt. Drop the circle of bread on it butter side up:

Now do the same with the bread. Get enough butter in the pan to make a bread sized pool of melted butter and drop your big slice of bread on it butter side up:

I usually add a little more butter in the middle, just to make sure:

Now, add the egg. Crack it first:

Flip both:

Make sure you don't cook the yolk all the way though so the small round piece can be used for dipping:

And that is how you make a Hobo Egg!

Next week, Pressed Duck.

The Saddest Spoon OR Beloved Silverware Found

My co-worker, Hugh, found this spoon below at the Goodwill Store. (Side Story - We have a project that requires a large amount of spoons and he went to the Goodwill to buy them. As he was checking out with every spoon in the store, the lady said, "You can't buy all these spoons." Hugh asked why. She said, "Because then we won't have any spoons if someone else wants to buy them." In the end, he lied and said he was buying them for an old folks home kitchen and she bought it, so he bought the spoons.)

The bottom of the handle has a small hole for mounting or possibly a necklace.

The spoon is engraved, "Susie, Will You Marry Me?" along with the date in 2012.

The backside says, "To my First, Last and Only True Love"

I see two scenarios: 

Scenario One: This poor schmuck asked Susie to marry him and she said, "No way, spoon boy."  He then gave the spoon to Goodwill in the hopes to write off his misery on his taxes."

Scenario Two: Susie said , "Yes," but that when they moved in together the spoon was lost when they gave away all their worldly possessions, because with this kind of spoon loves, they only need each other and this piece of silverware.  So if you know the owners, let me know and we can try to get it back to them.

I really hope it is scenario two.

Jury Duty - By Tom Lynch

Tom Lynch (@DIGcomic  on Twiiter) heard I was going to be on jury duty next week and created this drawing. I absolutely love it.

Young Jesus Plays With His Food

My coffee at work

Empty mason jar

Fill with ice

Add coffee

One creamer

Two creamers

Top off with more ice

After three of these I vibrate until about 2:00 a.m.

Swill - for those suffering in Toledo

July 30th is Annual Update You Laminated List Day

I think everyone is aware that July 30th is the Annual Update Your Laminated List Day!

As you all know, a laminated list is the three famous people with whom your spouse/significant other will allow you to have sex with, if ever the opportunity presents itself. If you happen to run into one of your three famous people and they are drunk enough to let you jump in the sack / couch / Robert Downey Jr.'s limo with you, then you have permission to have guilt free sex with any one of the three people on that list.

This year, I have done an almost complete revamp of my list.  I tried to avoid being extremely creepy, so this list is just mostly creepy.

1.  Christina Ricci (Not sure she will ever leave the list)

2.  Milana Vayntrub (She’s the AT&T girl and my crushy crush.)

3.  Kat Dennings (I think she would break me in the sack.)

Let's hear what your three picks are!

Father's Day Gift Tips

What NOT TO GET your dad for Father’s Day
1. Soap on a Rope (unless he’s in jail)
2. The DNA test (let’s just keep that between Mom and the Fed-Ex guy)
3. Anything with the word “soy” in it.
4. Used scaffolding
5. Beer in amounts more than 39 ounces
6. Rocking chair
7. Old Spice
8. Elvis anything
9. Chalk or anything that is written on with chalk
10. Lie detector

What TO GET your dad for Father’s Day
1. Carbide
2. Link to website on how to delete internet history/cookies.
3. A tie (it’s back in this year)
4. Bacon, 10 pounds (raw or cooked)
5. Anything that starts with Nintendo, has Station in the middle or ends with Box.
6. Salted anything
7. Bribe money
8. Boxed wine
9. Dashboard hula girl
10. “How to Pass a Lie Detector Test” book/pamphlet

I Feel a Disturbance Incest Force

Universe Egg

We tried mixing all the colors of the dyes to make black and we got this instead.

Very Lucky

I wrote a play for MadLab's 3 in 30: Lucky show. In the end, the director and I decided to cut out the mime parts. It was too distracting from the two actors and really didn't add anything to the show.  Some of the lines were modified as well because part of the mime's job was to constantly have harder and harder death scenes to act out.

Here is the script. Sorry about the formatting:

At RISE:                                                        

ACE sits in a chair facing stage right.  An empty seat is in front of him and also behind him.  A COP walks in with MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS and sits him facing away from ACE.

COP

Sit here and wait until you are called.

The MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS does a “tip of the hat and a bow” to the COP. The COP shakes his head and walks off.

DR. DUNN walks in wearing a suit jacket.

DR. DUNN

Hello Mr. Clover. I'm Paul Dunn. I work for the county as a… helper.

ACE

You mean psychologist?

DR. DUNN

That sounds so formal, Mr. Clover.  If you want formality, you can call me Dr. Dunn.

ACE

Hello Dr. Dunn. Please, call me Ace.

DR. DUNN

You know, Ace, it usually it takes about six hours to get a doctor over here to the station. But I had one client get sick and another escape so my entire morning was open.

ACE

Yes. Lucky me.

DR. DUNN

It gave me time to take a nice relaxing walk in the park all alone to gather my thoughts.

ACE

It’s good to be alone sometimes…

DR. DUNN

So, I'm here because you have refused to get a lawyer, you won’t answer any questions and yet you aren’t requesting to leave. They think you are traumatized. They want to know if you are capable of even answering questions.

ACE

So basically they want to know if I’m crazy.

DR. DUNN

Well, to be honest, yes.

ACE

Do I get to look at the ink splotches? I love those tests.

DR. DUNN

No. We are just going to talk. I'll write down some notes. Then I'll talk to the judge and see if we can't.. oh crap...my favorite pen is broken... AND LEAKING! All over my papers!

(Dr. Dunn stands up and wipes ink from his hands and reveals an ink splotch on the paper.)

ACE

I see a knife stuck in someone’s back.

DR. DUNN

What?

ACE

The ink blot test... on your paper.. a knife. In someone’s back.

DR. DUNN

Oh, I see it now.

ACE

Here, you can borrow my pen.

DR. DUNN

Thanks. Wow, that’s a weird looking pen. So, why won't you get a lawyer?

ACE

I don't need one.

DR. DUNN

You could be in some very big trouble here.  You were found standing over that bleeding woman. She's in a coma and it’s not looking good.

ACE

I called 911. That’s more than just standing over her.

DR. DUNN

There were no other witnesses. You seem guilty because you won’t talk.

ACE

In the end, they’ll find me innocent. They want me here for questions and I don’t need to answer them just yet. I’ll talk soon enough. I’m sure things will turn in my favor. They always do. I’m very lucky.

DR. DUNN

Being lucky means capitalizing on random opportunities. Nothing more.

ACE

Not for me.

DR. DUNN

What do you mean?

ACE

I’m lucky.  Good things happen to me.

DR. DUNN

You’re not lucky right now.

ACE

My luck will turn.

DR. DUNN

Some people are good observers. Lucky people find a $20 bill on the ground because they notice it when so-called unlucky person doesn’t.

ACE

No. It’s more than that. I’ve been lucky my whole life… but the people around me… they’ve been unlucky. It’s as if my luck is only based on the misfortune of others.

 DR. DUNN

(writing and speaking to himself)

Over-inflated sense of ego…

ACE

It’s not that. It’s… it’s luck! The worst kind of lucky.

DR. DUNN

It’s coincidence.

(When ACE speaks about the individual scenarios, the MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS

acts them out.)

ACE

I used to think that. When I was 8, I wanted the neighbor’s bike. He had an accident when the brakes failed and was paralyzed. His parents gave me the bike.

(MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS Hit by car pantomime.)

DR. DUNN

That’s more unfortunate for him than it was lucky for you.

ACE

At 12, I was the worst kid on the baseball team. We made it to the playoffs and both teams’ Gatorade made everyone but me sick. The coach had no choice but to put me in. The pitcher couldn’t throw strikes. I got hit by a pitch and the puking runner on third threw up all the way home for the winning run.

(MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS Sick, baseball, puking pantomime.)

DR. DUNN

That’s just gross.

ACE

At 16 I wanted a car. I found $5000 in the street. No one claimed the money, but later we found out it was dropped when a man was shoved into traffic while leaving the bank.

(MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS counting money, pushed in traffic pantomime.)

DR. DUNN

Everyone gets lucky.  Look, I found this gold coin I found in the park this morning.

ACE

I’m different.

DR. DUNN

Ace… do you know about Indian rain dances?

ACE

Sure. Indians dance and then it rains.

DR. DUNN

Sure. But did you know that they work 100% of the time?

ACE

Now that’s impossible. Dancing doesn’t make it rain.

DR. DUNN

The way a rain dance works is that they dance until it does rain. It’s got to rain some time. They just dance until it does. When it does, they give credit to the dancing.

ACE

What’s that have to do with me?

DR. DUNN

You probably wish for 100 things a day. When something does happen for you, you forget the 99 other wishes and remember the one.  You just keep wishing for things and when something does randomly fall in your lap, you blame luck.

ACE

I don’t sit around wishing all day. As a matter of fact, I spend a lot of time trying not to wish for anything so that the people around me aren’t hurt. I only wish when I really need to use it. When I feel like my back is against a wall.

DR. DUNN

So now you are a superhero with superpowers?

ACE

At 23, I was poor, out of work airplane mechanic and in love with a woman who was in love with my best friend.  I loved her with all my heart. One day I wished we could be together. He was killed in an industrial accident when he fell down a set of stairs, was impaled on a set of decorative spears and then fell in a pit of acid.  She collected from a huge lawsuit and I was there to help her through her grief.

(MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS falls down stairs, is impaled by spears and falls in acid. Then, man giving woman hug pantomime.)

DR. DUNN

That’s a complete and horrible coincidence.

ACE

If I wish for something hard enough, I’ll get it.

DR. DUNN

Still… it could all be random chance. Couldn’t  it?

ACE

Her parents didn’t bless our relationship. They said they would do everything they could to keep us apart.  I wished they could see things in a different way. As luck would have it, they died in a small plane crash and we were able to marry.

(MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS Horrible plane crash pantomime.)

DR. DUNN

You are beginning to scare me.

ACE

And now, in a hospital across town, she is dying.  She needs a full liver, kidney and heart transplant.  We have the money to pay for it, but not the organs.

  DR. DUNN

I’m sorry to hear that.

ACE

Worse yet, she has a very rare blood type.

DR. DUNN

It seems your luck has now completely run out.

ACE

Well. You see… this morning I made a wish.

DR. DUNN

What are you saying?

ACE

I wished that my wife would get better. That she would be able to get the transplant.

DR. DUNN

The stabbed woman?

ACE

The woman who was stabbed… If I’m very lucky, she’ll die and be a donor with my wife’s extremely rare blood type.

DR. DUNN

That’s impossible.

ACE

It’s highly improbable.

DR. DUNN

You… you murdered her!

ACE

It was some other guy. As a matter of fact, from a distance, he looked a lot like you.

DR. DUNN

What?

ACE

Yes. Someone with your looks. Now as I recall, now as the trauma has dissipated,  I seem to remember him stabbing her in the neck. Maybe with a pen.

DR. DUNN

They won’t believe you. I have an alibi… I was…

ACE

As luck you would have it, you were walking in the park alone this morning. With no witnesses. Except an off duty mime that saw you from afar…

DR. DUNN

No!

ACE

And I’m guessing that woman was a rare coin collector and that she is missing a rare gold coin.

DR. DUNN

You are insane! That’s crazy.

ACE

Is it?

The COP walks it and speaks to the MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS

                                                                        COP

Alright, pal. Time to look at photos and see if you can pick out the man you saw stab the woman.

The MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS beings pointing to the two other men and miming a stabbing motion.

COP

That’s him?

The MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS nods and the COP walks over to the two.

COP

That pen! It matches the wound on her neck!

DR. DUNN

It’s not mine! It’s his!

(The cop reaches in DR. DUNN’s jacket pocket.)

COP

The missing gold coin. You’re coming with me, murderer.

(The COP drags him off. The MAN IN BLACK LEOTARDS follows making hanging pantomimes.)

DR. DUNN

No! It was him. He set this all up. He did it. He’s the one! He’s….. he’s….

ACE

Very lucky.

THE END