Ode to the Undecided VOTER. A Short, One Act Play.
I find many things infuriating. For example, the propensity of certain restaurants to leave the tails on the shrimp that they serve. This forces you to dig through your shrimp tikka-masala to perform surgery with some combination of utensils and fingers in scalding hot orange sauce.
I think the only thing that infuriates me more than Shrimp-Gate is the presidential elections “undecided voter”.
It doesn’t matter where you stand politically,. Whether you are a progressive or a moderate or a bat-shit crazy cultist who craves a dictator (look, I’m putting this as fairly as I can), the choice should be absolutely clear by now. Donald Trump and Kamala Harris are rarely mistaken for each other. Philosophically, demographically, temperamentally, biographically, they are complete polar opposites.
I’m guessing that they even hold their ping-pong paddles differently, with Harris employing the American “shakehand” grip and Trump addressing the paddle with the reverse Asian “penhold” grip, which he uses to fling the paddle across the table at the head of a grateful Lindsey Graham.
Based on previous history, CNN will hold a televised forum with these undecided voters after the last debate and with, like, three days to go until the election. At this forum, these voters will have clear opinions on many matters. But they will not yet have sufficient information to decide which candidate best represents their views, even though it will be obvious to everyone watching.
I will watch this forum, grab a large bottle of vodka, and use it to smash my windpipe over and over again.
I’ve been told by my team of therapists that it’s not healthy for me to “bottle up” (see what I did there?) my frustration, but rather I should let it out, in some constructive way. Preferrably, one that does not involve strangling a therapist.
So, in an effort to release internal tension, I have composed a short, one-act play which is metaphorically about the undecided voter. I hope you enjoy it. And I hope it is produced, with Timothy Chalamet playing me.
THE HOUSE OF LA MAISON
(we are inside a fancy, French restaurant. A very attractive man name “Daylin” with a lot of hair is preparing to order dinner, and is discussing his options with his waiter)
WAITER
Welcome sir to the House of La Maison
DINER
It’s wonderful to be here. I’ve heard such good things.
But, the name? House of La Maison? I mean La Maison
means….
WAITER
I’m aware sir. It was preferable to the owner’s second
choice of name.
DINER
Which was….?
WAITER
Morbidly O’Bistro
DINER
Oh…I see.
WAITER
May I recommend an amusing wine tonight. Our Merlot
“Chateau de Aisselle du coureur” is very popular. It’s light,
breezy and has a hint of wall spackle.
DINER
Wall spackle?
WAITER
A hint.
DINER
That would be delightful. And for a main course, I’m torn
between the roasted chicken and the seafood pasta. I’m
just not sure which way to go.
WAITER
Well, they are very different dishes. Can you tell me a little
about what you are looking for?
DINER
Well, something without any foul in it. I hate foul. Who
eats a bird? Am I right?
WAITER
Well then! You’ll want to avoid the chicken. It’s literally
all foul.
DINER
But I’m just not sure. I am also looking for some carbohydrates.
I wrestle professionally under the name “The Amish Corpse” and
I have a match tomorrow. I’ll be needing some energy
WAITER
Well, again. The seafood pasta is a dish very heavy on the carbs,
whereas the roasted chicken has no carbs whatsoever.
DINER
I hear you. And I respect your opinion. But I just don’t feel I have
enough information to make a decision. I would say, I’d love a dish
with the word “pasta” in it. I just love saying that word. Pasta, pasta,
pasta! He-he.
WAITER
(losing patience)
You want the word “pasta” in it you say. In that case may want to
consider ordering our Seafood PASTA! It has seafood in it, no
doubt. But it also has PASTA, which you can say as much as you
like, and then eat. It’s like a twofer.
DINER
What about your seafood pasta? You say it has seafood?
WAITER
It actually does.
DINER
I LOVE seafood!
WAITER
Do you?
DINER
It’s my favorite!
WAITER
Is it?
DINER
And this roasted chicken. How is it prepared?
WAITER
(losing his mind)
Jesus Christ!
DINER
I’m sorry?
WAITER
(momentarily regaining his composure)
I’ve been led to believe it’s roasted.
DINER
I see. I don’t like things that are roasted. Not at
all. Roasted things disgust me. They make me
vomit uncotrollably.
WAITER
I feel quite sure I could have predicted that.
DINER
Well, I think I’ve come to a firm conclusion.
WAITER
Really?
DINER
Yes I have.
WAITER
And would you like to tell it to me?
DINER
Oh yes. I definitely feel that I haven’t heard enough to
feel confident as to which of these two dishes
I’d like better. I need to do a bit more research.
(At this point the WAITER leapt across the table and pulled the DINER’s head off with his bare hands. Four days later, they held a funeral for the DINER. At the reception afterwards, they served roasted chicken)
THE END
God. I feel so much better now.
