One More Thing: Stories and Other Stories(25)
When we can say anything, what do we say? When we can feel anything, what do we feel? When we can share anything, what do we share?
Silence in the room. Lisa Lampanelli faints. Pauly D weeps softly. Visible particles of physical shame fly from the pores of Jeffrey Ross. As the room hovers on the edge of total emotional collapse, Mandela starts to laugh.
Oh, my—I got you so good! I wish you could have seen that! Did they record that? Do they record the audience at these things? Oh, my … the looks on your faces as Nelson Mandela told you that your lives were worthless? That your existence was a waste of the privilege of freedom?! (Mandela laughs until he has to clutch his sides and catch his breath, then continues) I was only teasing. I mean, there was some truth in it, but … you know how these things work, there needs to be a little truth to the sting, correct? I thought I heard that somewhere, yes? (Mandela laughs again; inaudible expressions) Oh, my. So much fun. All of it. Thank you. I never get to do anything like that. I’ve been under so much pressure, for so long, and that was just … so fun. So fun. So fun.
They Kept Driving Faster and Outran the Rain
He rented a brand-new, bright yellow Ford Mustang convertible for their seven-day honeymoon in Hawaii. It rained lightly, all day, every day, for the first six days. It wasn’t what they were expecting, but it was beautiful, and they took walks in the mist around the hotel property and looked at the flowers.
“I love the fauna here at the hotel.”
“Wait, what’s fauna?”
“Plants, flowers, right?”
“Right, but ‘flora and fauna.’ Isn’t flora flowers?”
“Then what’s fauna?”
“Don’t know. Let’s look it up later.”
“K.”
“K.”
On the last day the rain cleared, and they decided to circle the island in the convertible. It was beautiful, but once they got up in the mountains it started to rain again.
“Should we put the roof up?”
“Okay. But we have to stop to put the roof up.”
“I don’t want to stop.”
“I don’t want to, either.”
Then they noticed that when they drove faster, the rain was deflected by the windshield and didn’t hit them. As it rained harder, they just drove faster.
When they came back they told their friends about the drive they took on their last day and how it ended up being the best day of their whole trip.
Their friends insisted that rain didn’t work that way—it must have been hitting them. All of them agreed. One friend, who taught physics at a university, was particularly insistent. He even drew a diagram and wouldn’t let them change the subject until they promised and swore that they understood, which they finally did.
But no matter what their friends told them, they would always know what really happened. They just kept driving faster, and outran the rain.
The Man Who Invented the Calendar
January 1st—Ha, that feels fun to write! I’m excited. I’ve been thinking about doing this for so long, too—I went through all my old diaries, and it turns out I came up with this idea all the way back on Day After Day After Very Cloudy Day.
January 2nd—I’m still so excited about this calendar thing. It just makes so much sense! One thousand days a year, divided into 25 months, 40 days a month. Why didn’t anyone think of this before?
January 3rd—Getting so many compliments on the calendar. One guy came up to me today and said he’s going to organize his whole life around it—literally, someone said that!
January 4th—Best day ever (or at least so far in recorded history)! I was talking to Alice at the bonfire for such a long time—yes, that Alice. It seemed like she was into me, but I didn’t want to be presumptuous. Finally I asked if she wanted to come back to my place and hang out more. She winked at me and said, “I don’t know … I guess I’ll have to check my calendar” (!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)
January 30th—People really hate January and want it to be over right away. I tried to explain that it’s just the way we choose to label things and that it wouldn’t make any difference, but no one got it. Finally, I just told everyone that this would be the last day of January, and months would be just 30 days instead of 40. But there wasn’t enough time to get the word out. So to be safe, we have to make this month 31 days, and then we’ll make the rest 30. Not a big deal. Everyone is excited to see Febuary—including me!
February 1st—Another small f*ck-up: I put an extra r in all the copies I handed out of the calendar, so it said “FebRuary,” even though I already told everyone the next month coming was called “FebUary.” I felt so stupid—but Alice came up with the best solution! She said: “Just tell everyone it’s spelled February but pronounced ‘Feb-u-ary.’ That way, they’ll feel stupid!” Alice is the best.
February 14th—Alice stuff weird. Tonight we were having a nice dinner at the same place we always go, but she was being unusually quiet. Finally I asked if anything was wrong, and she said, “Do you know what day today is?” I said, “Yes, of course I do, I invented the calendar. It’s February 14th. Why?” She smiled a really tense smile, said, “Yes. Yes, it is”—and then just walked away right in the middle of dinner! What’s that about?