The Monday Catchup

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Excerpt from “A Christmas Carrel” a play by me directed by me and starring me

NARRATOR: When Scrooge awoke, the church clock tolled a deep, dull, hollow, melancholy (BONG! BONG! BONG! BONG!). Light flashed up in the room upon the instant, and the blinds by his bed were drawn up by a strange figure.

SCROOGE: Are you the Spirit, sir, whose coming was foretold to me?

FIRST GHOST: I am!

SCROOGE: Who and what are you?

FIRST GHOST: I am the Ghost of Kenyon Past.

NARRATOR: As the words were spoken, they passed through the wall, and stood in the busy thoroughfares of a college campus. It was made plain enough by the dressing of the place that here, too, it was Christmas time. The Ghost stopped at a certain door, and asked Scrooge if he knew it.

SCROOGE: Know it! I spent countless hours here. I remember these walls, this cubic furniture, the ceiling made of windows. This must be the place … I miss it. Olin and Ch–

FIRST GHOST: Don’t say it. It will be too painful for you. Yes we are here. Smell the books. Hookup in the stacks. Talk too loud on the third floor. You loved this place and took it for granted.

SCROOGE: Spirit! remove me from this place. Haunt me no longer!

NARRATOR: As he struggled with this memory and the intense pain attached to it, Scrooge realized he was a first year who had no reason to be jaded about a place he never set foot in save for during a visit day or tour. Man who the hell do you think you are? How was your weekend?

 

“Saw someone eating a cheesestick the bad way. Ruined my night.”

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The Monday Catchup

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7:30 A.M. The din of library construction tickles your ear drums. “Wake up,” she whispers to you, “welcome to the morning.” For a while you thought the library was beautiful, easy, and clean. She was older and well-liked by many. For a while you didn’t mind her cracking a little and exposing those hidden parts of her. You loved it. When she finally crumbled, you walked away. You built a wall around her. You thought you could paint what you wanted to see on that wall. You knew that wouldn’t work, or maybe you were dumb enough to think it would work. Now she’s all ugly, boring — messy. Now she’s a cruel lover, and she’s only getting colder by the minute. You thought you could escape her. Now every morning you’re greated with the clangs and beeps and banging of an angry woman who has no pity for you. Now she gives you the finger instead of asking “How was your weekend ?”

“Turkey but not. Italian food instead.”

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The Monday Catchup

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I think it’s safe to say it; I have an opinon about a thing at Kenyon. I think something is one way, but it certainly could be another way. If I publically say that we should change that thing, I know most people will agree with me. I also know that you are all afraid to change that thing — that very thing I now have a strong, fervent, dare I say piping hot, opinion about. Deep down we know that thing can change. Why are we so comfortable with that THING? We must discuss the thing at length. We must call our mom and explain that we plan on changing this thing. If we post about this thing on a subpar college humor blog maybe people will think about that thing. If enough people let other people know their opinion about the thing, maybe we could get that thing to be a different thing, or at least a better thing than it is now. I will not stand for stagnancy. It’s the Monday Catchup.

How was your weekend?

“Happy 5th of Halloween.”

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The Monday Catchup

It’s Saturday night. You’re two beers and one jell-o shot deep at a friend’s party. Why did you take that jell-o shot? Well it’s over now, and you’re feeling buzzed. Maybe you’re even feeling tipsy. Perfect. The party hosts are playing the BEST song (for the record that song is Tipsy – Club Mix by J-Kwon). Channeling the jell-o you bounce back and forth, making the rounds. Then you spot that one guy. You know who I’m talking about. He’s the guy you see sometimes in line at Fusion. Yeah. That one. You tell yourself to play it cool and keep chatting up your friends. He is probably into that freshman girl anyway. The one who posts a ton of bikini pics. Yeah. That one. Wait, he’s walking towards you. Yes? No? Yes. He locks eyes and grabs your hand to dance. How long did you dance? It could have been 10 seconds. It could have been an hour. You talk about class and life and each other all the while you are sure he can smell jell-o on your breath. Why did you take that jell-o shot? Just when you think he’s about to leave, he leans in. His lips travel to your ear and he whispers, in a voice barely audible above the Club Mix of Tipsy by J-Kwon, “how was your weekend?”

It’s the Monday Catchup.

“I got catfished. After that I got a Wiggins Mocha.”

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The Monday Catchup

photo.jpgEvery time I recall this story, I can’t sleep for at least two days after. Imagine our mother, Kenyon College, washed in warm light. The trees lining middle path are shaggy green. The student body has gone to summer in upstate New York or somewhere on the coast of Massachusetts or got an internship like a reasonable person. It’s the summer of 1995. Gambier is sleepy, but one building is full of activity.

Caples has been checked and locked down for the night, but lights and showers have been unexpectedly coming on throughout the day despite the vacancy of the building. At 5 a.m. safety officer Dan Turner recieved a call from switchboard operator, Jolynn Bryant. Three phone calls from Caples had come in rapid succession from rooms 511, 611, and 711. Each time she heard a woman scream and hang up. The sound was not mechanical but decidedly human. Safety officers arrived on the scene and another call came in from room 811. This time the voice on the other line did not scream. Instead, it breathed heavily, wimpered, and choked out the phrase “How was your weekend?”

It’s the Monday Catchup.

“I saw a baby llama taken from its mother and then returned.”

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