Trapped in an Elevator

April 1, 2010
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“Hello there, I ahm Arnold,” the big, muscular man said in a thick Austrian accent. It had been 15 minutes since the elevator broke down and no one said anything, so, Arnold thought he’d break the ice and try to get to know the people stuck in the elevator with him.

“I’m Alan.” The short man introduced himself. He was wearing tight white pants, a grey shirt, and a man-purse. He and Arnold both looked at the third person in the elevator.

“AND, I’M DOONEESE,” sang the third person…loud and obnoxiously. She had a forehead the size of the side of a cliff and deformed baby hands at her side. She stood there, rocking slightly on her feet, smiling at the two men.

“I like your mahn purse,” said Arnold to Alan, trying to ignore Dooneese’s creepiness.

“It’s not a purse, it’s called a satchel. Indiana Jones wears one,” Alan said, matter-of-factly, as if offended. Arnold threw up his hands in apology. “I like your…arms,” he said, trying to think of something.

“I LIKE…CAN I TOUCH?” Dooneese sang, loud and off key. She brought her tiny, awkward, baby hand to Arnold’s bicep, clearly unaware of personal space. Arnold jumped back, startled.

“Do you know if this elevator is pager friendly? I could get us out of here, but I’m not getting a sig on my beeper,” Alan said, raising his pager above his head to get a signal. Nothing. He bumps into Dooneese, and her frilly yellow dress jiggles around her. She, almost automatically, starts to sing to herself about hitting a turkey over the head with a shovel and something about a toilet.

Both Arnold and Alan look at each other and then back at her. “You are a strange woman,” said Arnold.

“How dare you! She’s a nice lady!”said Alan. “Your language is offensive!” He defended Dooneese bravely, even though Arnold towered over him and his scrawny self. He suddenly was overcome with a rush of adrenaline. Alan wedged himself between the half-opened doors and forced them open. He then pointed to the outside world.

“Get out! And don’t speak to her like that again,” said Alan, yelling at Arnold.
With that, Arnold scurried up and out of the hole in the door.
Alan then turned to Dooneese, whose smile could not have been broader, and asked if she wanted to hang out with him later that week. She nodded vigorously and placed her tiny, repulsive hand in his.

“Oh, you know what? Next week's no good for me…The Jonas Brothers are in town. But any week after that, it's totally fine,” Alan said, smiling at Dooneese.

“I LIKE CHASING CARS!” sang Dooneese once more. With that, Alan knew he had found the perfect woman.





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