A Nice, Warm Glass of Penzoil

A Nice, Warm Mug of Penzoil
By Dan CHEek
15 July 2006
© Dan Cheek 2006

Lost Cause:  Sam.  Sam, wake up.  Please, Sam, wake up.

Sam (turning on the light next to his bed): What?  What time is it?

Lost Cause:  I don’t know, Sam.  It’s late.  Not that it matters.  Soon, everything will be over.

Sam: Oh.  It’s you, LC.  What is it now?  If this is about Goblin and his gas again, I don’t even want to talk about it.

Lost Cause:  No, Sam.  It’s worse.  Much, much worse.  Sam, the cable is out.  It’s been out for almost an hour now.

Sam: LC, look, it’s like three in the morning.  I really don’t give a shit about the cable being out right now.  Read a book or something.

Lost Cause:  Sam, we both know I can’t read and that written language scares me.  But Sam, I need you to do something for me.

Sam:  LC, I’m not killing myself.  Now go away.

Lost Cause:  You poor thing, you’re in shock.  Here….drink this mug of motor oil I’ve prepared for you.

Sam:  Where…where did you get a mug of motor oil?  I don’t have a car.

Lost Cause:  I found it.  Anyway, just drink it.  It will put your mind at rest.  I’ll be right behind you.  Then the cable can never hurt us again.

Sam:  First off, I’m not drinking that.  Second, if you spill a drop of that on my bed…

Lost Cause:  You’ll slit your wrists in a fit of angst?

Sam: No, I’ll burn you like a witch.  And third, if I were to agree to your little “suicide party” thing, I sure as hell wouldn’t be the first one to drink the Kool-Aid.

Lost Cause:  It’s not Kool-Aid, Sam.  It’s Penzoil.  Now drink deeply.

Sam (turning off the light):  Get out of my room.  Go talk to Bob.  Maybe he wants to die.

Lost Cause:  Bob’s painting the sidewalk.

Sam: HE’S WHAT?!?!?!?

Lost Cause:  You sound angry.  When I get angry, I often fantasize about the sweet bliss of death.  Drink the Penzoil, Sam.

Sam:  Go away.  Please….just go away.

Lost Cause:  I’ll go, Sam.  But I’m leaving the mug of oil here in case you change your mind.  Good night, Sam.

Sam: Good night, LC.  Tell Bob to stop painting the sidewalk.


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