Scene: A bright, sunny Saturday morning, mid-morning, at the 6021. ASHLEYNE arises from bed and opens her bedroom door, allowing the general populace to know she is awake, before returning to sit on her bed. SHANEEQUA appears in the doorway, also still in her pajamas, looking bright-eyed and bushy tailed.
S: Good morning! Do you need some coffee?
A: Yes, please.
SHANEEQUA departs, returning shortly with two steaming mugs of coffee.
A: Thank you. You’re the best.
S: You’re welcome!
ASHLEYNE cautiously sips her coffee, wondering sleepily what’s coming next.
S: I’ve been very productive this morning. I even cleaned out all the vases, and threw out all the flowers. Then I went to take the trash out, and remembered that our trash can blew away. So I called Republic to ask them to send us a new trash can, and the woman told me I had to call the police and file a report. I said, “Let me get this straight. You want me to call 911 and ask them to file a report because a tornado took my trash can?” And she said, “No, you can call the non-emergency line.” And I said, “They’re going to have me committed.”
ASHLEYNE looks confused.
A: You have to file a report? Why?!
S: Exactly. I said, “Yeah, no. Not doing that.” So I looked down the street, and there’s a trash can just lying in someone’s yard a few houses down. So I’m waiting until 10:30, and then I’m going to go knock on their door and ask if it’s theirs, and if it’s not, I’m going to take it.
A: Makes sense. Why 10:30?
S: Well, I was going to go earlier, but Holly said since you were still sleeping, maybe it was too early, because other people might be sleeping.
A: Makes sense. Sort of.
S: So I’ll wait a little while longer.
SHANEEQUA exits, walking into the living room. After a few moments, ASHLEYNE follows, considering what she wants for breakfast. SHANEEQUA now stands by the open front door, looking through the glass storm door.
S: The sky is really dark over there. I think a storm is rolling in.
A: Yeah, I heard thunder a few minutes ago.
S: I’m going to go sit on our front stoop and watch the storm roll in.
A: We don’t really have a front stoop.
SHANEEQUA opens the storm door and walks out into the sunshine. ASHLEYNE hesitantly follows, obviously not yet under the full influence of caffeine.
S: See? There’s the trash can.
SHANEEQUA points south, about six houses down, across the road, where a large blue garbage bin lies haphazardly in a front yard.
S: Let’s go get it.
ASHLEYNE looks down at her sweatpants and her mug of coffee and her bare feet.
S: Sure! Seize the moment!
ASHLEYNE looks at SHANEEQUA’S bare feet. And back down at her own. Clearly, brain function is not happening.
A: Okay. Let me roll up my pants so they don’t get wet.
ASHLEYNE rolls up her sweatpants to her knees. The pair walk to the sidewalk and turn south. Gradually, without either one noticing, the sunlight is fading. A couple with a dog passes, glancing curiously at the two shoeless women gingerly carrying their coffee down the street.
The pair cross the street, avoiding puddles, and approach the house in question, starting up the driveway, which is cracked and full of holes.
A: I don’t think I’ve ever seen this house before.
S: I guess we should knock on the front door?
Looking at the house, both are starting to experience some doubts. The house seems neglected, the pathway overgrown, and upon closer inspection, it is evident that trash bags have been used to cover the windows from the inside. The front step is surrounded by moss and dirt. SHANEEQUA hesitantly knocks on the glass of the storm door.
A: Maybe knock on the inside door?
SHANEEQUA carefully opens the storm door, which reveals a mass of cobwebs. SHANEEQUA hurriedly knocks, and then shuts the storm door. Approximately 3 seconds pass.
S: I don’t think they’re home.
A: Yeah. Let’s go.
Both turn and hastily retreat. The sky has turned the color of granite and thunder shakes the trees. As the pair dodge potholes down the driveway, a door opens in the house next door, difficult to see because of a poorly-maintained hedge. A small, portly old man emerges, peering through the hedge at the two women, sucking on a wooden pipe.
OLD MAN: Are you girls looking for your trash can?
One enormous rain drop falls to the ground.
A: Yes, we are.
OLD MAN: Well, a whole bunch of ’em blew over here the other day, all from down that ways.
OLD MAN waves toward the north. A second rain drop falls to the ground.
S: Yeah, we think this might be ours.
The skies open, and 40,000 rain drops fall at once, drenching all three people. OLD MAN disappears mysteriously, and ASHLEYNE and SHANEEQUA make a beeline for the trash can, pulling it up off the yard.
S: Oh my gosh!! This is hilarious!
ASHLEYNE starts pulling the trash can down the sidewalk behind her, mug of coffee in her other hand. Both women are dripping, and the rain drops are so large that their coffee is splashing up into their faces and onto their clothes. SHANEEQUA begins laughing hysterically.
S: This…is…ridiculous…my coffee…oh my…gosh…
The pair moves slowly back up the sidewalk, hampered by their bare feet, the trash bin, and the debilitating laughter. Once they reach the 6021, they take out the trash, since they are both drenched anyway, and then step inside to laugh themselves silly.
S: How about I make some more coffee?
Two minutes pass. The rain stops completely. After three more minutes, the sun returns, and the pair exits the Twilight Zone, and returns to normal, weekend life.
In other news, it appears that our neighbor has decided to name his trash can, so that if we have another tornado, he can locate his trash can without calling 911.