Crocophile (standard:humor, 2251 words)
Author: Austen Brauker	Added: Oct 05 2010	Views/Reads: 3273/1867	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A couples realizes that what is important in life, in the face of impending armageddon is each other...and the appropriate footwear.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

gun too! Aiming it up at the Phillips boy.... You remember honey. You 
took that intro to business class from him last year. Remember? He gave 
you a C and you were all upset. ....Looks like the shoe is on the other 
foot now! ...eh Sneidel? (there is a gun shot.) Oh crap! Looks like the 
Phillips boy got him. Sneidel's flopping around in the road like a 
fish. (there is another gunshot, Jorge looks at Martah again.) No more 
college classes for you honey.....You'll never believe this. Guess what 
else.... 

MARTAH: (distant.) What's that Jorge? 

JORGE: He was wearing crocs! 

MARTAH: (She ignores his comment.) God damn it Jorge. I got a B in that
class not a C. 

JORGE: Yeah. Whatever. ....(then, under his breath.) Sure you did
dear......You know, that money market was goin' to earn us some fine 
interest if all this wasn't happenin'. (He sweeps his arm toward the 
civil melee occurring in the streets.) 

MARTAH: (getting upset) I can show you the transcripts Jorge!  It was a
B! (She gets up angrily and rifles through a pile of papers on a desk. 
Then talks to herself.) It's here somewhere. 

JORGE: (calmly.) That boy always was a pretty good shot. Remember when
he had that BB gun? He was always comin' home with a squirrel or a bird 
or somethin'. Guess it paid off. Not so for good for Sneidel though. 
That old Professor ain't so smart now...is he? 

MARTAH: HA! Here it is Jorge! (she stomps over to the window.) There you
go! (Martah shoves the report card with the grades up in front of 
Jorge's binoculars to block his view.) Look there....a B!  It's a B 
Jorge. Not a C! And another thing, you don't know anything about 
investments! (She starts crying again, harder than before.) 

JORGE: Wait Martah....The kid's up to somethin' again .....get out the
way.....(Jorge tries to see but Martah keeps the paper covering the 
lenses. He gives in.) Ok. Ok. So you got a B. Ok. I believe you. Just 
stop cryin' dear. I'm sorry. 

MARTAH: You can be such a pain Jorge. Sometimes I wish you would listen
to me. All those airplanes flyin' over all day long dropping god knows 
what streamin' out from behind them. That buzzing noise... ringing all 
the time in our ears. Can't remember anything. Big clouds of poison 
fallin from the sky. I was watchin' Jorge. Remember? I watched them 
every day. (She sits back down on the couch, talking slower.) Just a 
goin' back and forth with those big contrails of poisoned aluminum...or 
whatever it was, making big grids across the sky. Can't remember 
anything. (Martah blows her nose.) It's a wonder I can still remember 
my own name. (She is calming down, accepting the situation.) Did I say 
that once already? 

JORGE: Chemtrail. 

MARTAH: What did you say Jorge? 

JORGE: Chemtrails honey. You said contrails. They're called chem-trails.
(He looks directly at her and smiles.) Contrails is what they were 
called back when they used to disappear behind a jet, not the ones that 
get bigger and make those whispy clouds like they do now. I think you 
meant chem-trails. 

MARTAH: Oh, that's right. Chem-trails. (She sounds defeated, apathetic)
I'm sounding so dumb lately. (She perks up slightly.) But they sure do 
make for a nice sunset though, don't they... 

JORGE: They sure do my little honey B. They sure do. 

MARTAH: I can hardly remember anything anymore Jorge. Gets so hard to
think sometimes. This ringing in my ears. Coughin' all the time. You 
know, I never had allergies my whole life, or the flu for that matter, 
its just these last few years. Everyone getting' sick. .......What was 
that Jorge? (she is a bit confused.) 

JORGE: I didn't say anything dear. 

MARTAH: Who woulda thought it would all come to this? Our own
government! Our own people.....You worked so hard for them for all 
those years Jorge. Saved up that nest egg for retirement. .......All 
gone in one day. (she snaps her fingers) everything...in the blink of 
an eye. 

JORGE: He's almost at the top. 

MARTAH: And we went right along with it too. Bunch of lemmings. (she
looks spaced out and emotionless, starting to speak in a monotone.) 
Like lambs to a slaughter. Wavin' our flags and eatin' all those 
microwave meals. Watchin' TV like it was the only thing to do in the 
whole world. We gave them a 700 billion dollar bail out Jorge .....What 
idiots!......Believin' the news. ........Is your ears ringin' Jorge? 

JORGE: He's doin' somethin' now honey. That Phillips kid. Got somethin'
out of his bag. He's tyin' it to the TV transmitter. Oh my god...... 
He's takin' off all his clothes...... What the hell is he doing.....? 
(Jorge follows down with his binoculars until the Phillips kid hits the 
ground). He jumped, Martah, jumped right off the tower. 

MARTAH: Best just leave it alone Jorge. Each to his own. That's what I
always say. Live and let be, or however they say it. (flashing lights 
and sirens go by again.) What's happenin' now? 

JORGE: It doesn't look good. The Parson's just ran down the street. 

MARTAH: What's so bad about that? 

JORGE: Half of them were on fire. 

MARTAH: Let them be Jorge, just let them be. 

JORGE: Martah. I don't think this is turning out too well. (Jorge is
getting nervous.) It looks like helicopters comin'. (He drops his 
binoculars. Bright lights shine into the windows with the sound of 
choppers. A huge explosion goes off and the TV goes out. The humming 
noise that has gotten louder and louder throughout the play now 
suddenly goes off at the same time as the explosion. Jorge walks slowly 
over to Martah and sits down on the couch next to her. He puts his arm 
around her. They look at each other. ) Looks like it was a bomb that 
Phillips kid tied up there to the TV tower. Took out one of them fancy 
stealth choppers with it too. They were trying to send somebody down on 
a rope when it went off. There's more comin'. 

MARTAH: All is fair Jorge. All is fair. 

JORGE: (He sounds stressed) What are we going to do Martah? Try to run
for it? It looks like some folks might be making it. (Machine gun fire 
answers his question.) 

MARTAH: Wait a minute.....Listen to that, Jorge! .......Listen! 

JORGE: I don't hear anything. 

MARTAH: That's what I mean. The ringing. It stopped. It must have been
coming from that big antenna. The Phillips kid must have heard it too! 
(more machine gun fire. People screaming.) 

JORGE: (crawls back to the window and peeks over the sill.) Looks like
they got the Wilson's. They're pulling them out through the windows. 
(machine gun fire. Jorge slumps to the floor with his back to the 
window and then crawls back to Martah. ) We got to run Martah. We got 
to! 

MARTAH: (slow and apathetic.) Where are we going to run Jorge? Where are
we going to go? (She looks down at her feet.)  I don't even own a pair 
of running shoes. Remember? 

JORGE: (relaxes and consigns to fate.) The shits really hit the fan this
time hasn't it? 

MARTAH: (matter of factly.) Goerge. Did you ever cheat on me? 

JORGE: (honestly.) No Martah. I never did. ....You? 

MARTAH: No Jorge. (they pause. The sound of gunfire is going on from
outside.).... But...did you love me Jorge? (The stage lights have 
dimmed so that the colored lights from the window are emphasized. Jorge 
and Martah are lit by a slight spot.) 

JORGE: Yes. I did..... I mean...I still do. 

MARTAH: Tomorrow's our wedding anniversary Jorge. Did you remember?
......I got you your present already. (she uncovers the small box that 
she covered with the blanket.) 

JORGE: Twenty years Martah....... I remember.....I was going to take you
out to your favorite restaurant.(he looks at her deeply.) That Chinese 
place over by the college. You know the one where people always say 
they find cat pelts in the dumpster. 

MARTAH: (she hits him in the arm and laughs) Jorge! You know that's not
true! (He meows at her and she hits him in the arm again. Jorge is 
laughing.) ...(Martah gets serious again.) But George...did you like my 
cooking? 

JORGE: Every bite. (he gives her a kiss.) 

MARTAH: I guess I can give you your gift early...(gunfire.) we might not
be here tomorrow. (another blast from outside breaks the glass of the 
living room window. People are yelling from other houses.) Sounds like 
they're rounding people up. (more gunshots. Martah hands Jorge the 
small  shoe box with a big red bow on the top.) Courtesy of the late 
Dan Melvin, former shoe salesman extraordinaire. 

JORGE: (he opens the box and holds up a pair of green crocs.) Just like
the president used to wear! (Jorge exclaims this with joking pride.) 

MARTAH: Just like the president! (They both start to laugh.) 

(Soldiers kick in the auditorium doors from the outside and  rush down
the aisles until they end up on the stage, pointing their weapons at 
the couple. The curtain drops. The audience hears the soldiers open 
fire. There is a pause of silence and then the humming noise slowly 
starts again. It turns back up to its max volume in about ten seconds. 
An explosion erupts. The lights immediately go out and the humming 
stops.) 


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