The red wine-colored curtains open
And the action on the stage begins,
…If it can even be called action.
As the lame version of
Romeo and Juliet goes on
…And on,
…And on,
…And on,
Garth wriggles in his seat
As he yearns to be home.
But instead, he gets to watch
The most boring play,
The most boring acting,
The most boring audience,
The most boring event.
It’s like watching a History
Channel documentary
About absolutely nothing
At three
In the morning.

At home, Garth’s DVR awaits him.
He’s almost two weeks behind
On his shows.
His DVR is like an unused ukulele,
Mad at its master for being used
To collect cobwebs.
…That’s supposed to be
The treadmill’s job.
And tonight was supposed to be
A catch up night.
But instead, he got pulled
Into watching his boring brother
In this horrendous disaster
At the grimy, third-class theater.
…If it can even be called a theater.








At last,
Garth’s misery ends.
And home, to his DVR, he drives,
Carefully in the rain
And thunderstorm.
He rushes into his apartment,
And flips the switch,
But no lights turn on--
He picks up the phone,
But no dial tone is heard--
He opens the freezer,
But all is thawed…

When the power returns…
Garth turns straight to
His TV and DVR,
Looks at his recordings…
But nothing is there!
“What the hell!!
Two weeks worth of shows, gone!?!”
Garth whips his remote control
In anger.
It smacks the TV and shatters…
A piece bounces back,
And goes right down his throat.