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This writing was accepted for publication in the 84 page perfect-bound issue... Down in the Dirt magazine (v105) (the April 2012 Issue) You can also order this 5.5" x 8.5" issue as an ISSN# paperback book:

Order this writing in the book It Was All Preordained (a Down in the Dirt collection book)		get the 320 page January-April 2012 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Modern Vaudeville Afternoon

Kristopher D. Miller

    Rebecca gripped the handle of the screwdriver like a murder weapon. Before her on the coffee table was the shattered DVD containing vaudeville acts, with the hand written title The Man Who Fell Down the Stairs. Pieces of the DVD player were spread all over the polished oak surface. Rebecca straightened her red framed glasses and donned her favorite pink sweatshirt, the one with the kangaroo samurai on the front. She sighed at the DVD damage.
    Geez, why do I have to screw everything up? Rebecca thought. She intended to show vintage comedy acts to amuse her high school history class. The television displayed Jerry Springer who tried to counsel two women arguing which one of them carried the pool boy’s child. Mr. Springer received counseling instead by getting punched in the face by one of the pool boy’s lovers.
    Rebecca walked to the kitchen and fished out a container of Top Ramen from the cupboard. She set the pot of water onto the stove and dropped in the block of noodles. Rebecca gave herself a small pat on the back for this feat. But the thought of destroying her DVD player in trying to free her disc never dissipated. Rebecca futilely tried to draw a positive outcome for its demise. Maybe she could buy a brand new two hundred dollar DVD player that did not eat a disc placed on the slide for a change.
    Rebecca drifted through the subject of existential philosophy, contemplating on how she was cursed with clumsiness. Every good deed she tried to commit, it was like burning her own hand from a Christmas tree she accidentally set on fire as a teenager.
    Rebecca’s latest crime was bringing coffee over to a fellow teacher. She did not see the student rushing to a class on the left. Rebecca lost her grip of the cup containing hot Folgers brand coffee on collision. The coffee found its way onto the nearby principal’s brown pants.
    Then a pungent odor invaded her nostrils, a reminder of the present.
    Oh no! Rebecca’s mind screamed. She saw the smoldering pan of dried noodles churned in milky fluid. Rebecca hastily turned off the stove and ejected her failure of culinary adventure into the trash can. The frustrating inability to cook even instant noodles inspired Rebecca to take a breath of fresh air and hopefully blow off steam inside her head. She embarked on the search for her car keys with the regret of leaving them on the couch.
    The TV displayed American Idol as Rebecca mined in the sofa for the Buick’s keys.
    “Your rendition of “Purple Haze” reminds me of an adult who is still working in a fast food joint!” said Simon Cowell to a hopeful contestant. “You have absolutely no future!”
    With a hand stuck in the couch and her fingers teased by the keys, Rebecca realized this was not a day to win a million in some bogus lottery. She planned to set things right by digging out the keys and drive her Buick over to the store. Purchasing a new DVD player would make up for the rest of Saturday afternoon. Rebecca was also inspired to make more features on a new vaudeville DVD to impress her students, such as a commentary on various acts when she assigned additional DVDs for homework.
    “The day must go on!” she declared and pulled out her keys from the murky depths of the sofa. A few minutes later, Rebecca stepped onto the porch. She donned on tight fitting gloves after observing that it was a good brisk winter day in contrast to her overheated house. The air was not too bitter to bite the skin at least. The sky showcased a light blue color that contrasted to the white snow below. It was a blue that might show up on an optimistic greeting card. Taking a step, Rebecca clutched the railing before descending down the stairs the hard way. She felt like one of stairs was pulled from under her. Rebecca fell on her butt but she did not lose her grip on the railing. She sighed and wished she could slap herself for not sprinkling out rock salt.
    Ahead of her, there was a boy’s voice in the yard.
    “Stuffy! C’mon Stuffy! Climb down!”
    Rebecca picked herself up from the stairs and walked over to see what the matter was. A boy looked up the frozen tree where a black cat perched on one of the branches. The feline being called to peered down with intense hatred.
    “He just ran off after I pulled his tail!” the boy explained.
    “You don’t have to say anymore than that!” Rebecca said as she reluctantly reached the first branch. She carefully maneuvered up frost bitten limb after frost bitten limb to get within arm’s length of Stuffy. As Rebecca reached out with her good arm, the cat attacked it. The next thing she heard was the sharp crack of a branch breaking off.
    The boy stared down in awe at Rebecca lying flat on the snow.
    “Don’t worry!” he says, “I’ll go get help!”
    He ran off as Stuffy gave Rebecca his gratitude by biting and scratching the hand gripping his fur. She decided not to buy the DVD player today after all.

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