Photo by Naas Nahas (DStudio) on Unsplash
Tim wipes the morning from his eyes as he drags himself from the bathroom to the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee. Elaine is sitting at the kitchen table, a glass of orange juice and a bottle of Advil in front of her.
“When did you get up?” asks Tim.
“Not so loud,” she says, holding her head. She has an iPad open on its stand to her right and a pad of lined paper before her.
He places a pod in the Nespresso machine and pushes the button, causing it to whir.
“Is it always that loud?” he asks.
She picks up the bottle of Advil and tosses it at him. He misses, and it rolls across the counter into the sink, causing the disposal to kick in, grinding the plastic and pills to shreds.
“Tim!” Elaine puts her palms over her ears.
“Damnit,” he says, reaching under the sink to turn off the disposal with the kill switch. The coffee machine starts spitting coffee out, missing the cup.
“What is wrong with you today?” yells Elaine.
Tim pushes the cup in place and then reaches into the drain to try to retrieve some pills for his headache. He sorts through a palmful of plastic and pill pieces to find what looks like enough medication for his hangover.
Tim soaked up the spilled coffee and unplugged his phone from the counter where it had been charging overnight.
“Who are you calling?”
Tim, raised his forefinger to signal for her to wait. “Marty? Tim. Are you sitting down?”
Elaine raises both hands and gives him a confused look.
“He’s not dead.” Tim bobs his head, grabs his coffee, and walks to the sofa in the living room. “Yeah. Go figure. The hospital screwed up. We can sue them, right?”
Elaine jumps out of her seat and hits the iPad, knocking it over. Her phone buzzes.
Tim looks at her, hope rising in his eyes.
“He wants bacon and eggs.”
Tim waves his phone in the air before his face and grimaces at Elaine.
“No, Marty. He’s still not dead. So, can we sue?”
As Tim explains the events of the previous day to his brother-in-law, Elaine gulps her orange juice and slams the iPad shut. When Tim ends his call, Elaine gives him that what-the-hell-did-he-say look.
“Apparently, there is a doctor in Maryland who has handled lots of these cases.”
“This has happened before?”
“That’s what Marty says. Wrongful Penetration or something like that.”
“What?”
Tim pauses as Marty corrects him. “No, Wrongful Perpetuation of Life. Can you believe it? I never heard anyone use that word, prolongation. It sounds like penis surgery.”
Tim gulps down his coffee and spits some out. “Hot!”
“What did you expect?” Elaine walks over to the machine and replaces the pod with a new one. “These things are expensive. If he is going to live, we will need to cut our expenses around here.”
“He is not going to live. He already died once. He just needs to be dead again.”
“Tim,” she says with a warning. “What are you thinking?”
“We talked about this last night.”
“I emptied two bottles of red wine last night, and you left a dozen glasses all over the apartment. Why can’t you drink from one glass instead of grabbing a new one with each drink?”
“It’s how I keep count.” He opens the fridge, looking for something to eat. “No eggs?”
She pushes her way around him and grabs a small container, dropping it on the counter.
“Real eggs, not plastic ones.”
She looks at him and sits again to sip her orange juice. “And this is the last of this as well. I guess we have to go food shopping, especially if Father is coming home.”
“Here?”
“Where else?”
“Your sister?”
Elaine buries her head in her IPad and notebook.
“She has plenty of room. She has that big house on that lake in Hew Hampshire. It would be perfect.”
Tim examines the loaf of sliced bread, pulling out each slice, looking at it and tossing it in the sink.
“That big house is a bed and breakfast, Tim.” She looks up. “What are you doing?”
“They’re all moldy.”
“We haven’t been home in a while.”
“Add bread to your list.”
“I’m not making a shopping list. This is for the funeral.”
He drops the remaining slices on the counter. “The funeral? So, you agree? We’re going to do this?”
“Tim, I have to contact everyone who was planning on coming to tell them not to come.”
“No!” He pulls out a chair and sits across from her. “Don’t do that. Let them come. We’ll find a way.”
“To do what?”
“You know,” he says, miming putting a pillow over his father-in-law’s head, if his head was on the table before him.
“We can’t do that, and you know it.”
Elaine’s phone rings and Tim throws up his hands.
“Hello?” Elaine listens and then says, “when?”
She turns to Tim when she hangs up. “They are sending him home. Now.”
This is another teaser of Dead Again?, a farcical dark-comedy which will eventually become a video short. The idea came from a conversation over dinner at a birthday celebration. Please share your thoughts.
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