OUT OF THE TUBE & INTO THE BATH

A Little Eccentricity Goes a Long Way, a Lot Could Kill

15 August, 2018

One evening a man and woman were having dinner at a fancy restaurant.

Dressed to impressed, the woman's hands clutched her purse, fingers occasionally fidgeted while the man awkwardly lurched forward to grab a chair for her to sit on. His fumbled attempts were endearing. Her smile was kind and grateful.

They had only spoken online before, and this was the first time they had met in person. Despite that, there was something peculiar about him, it seemed as though he rarely went out. The way in which he spoke seemed strange, every word dictated carefully under great scrutiny. She shrugged off the suspicion, since a lot of people speak in a peculiar or unique way.

A screeching sound resonated throughout the restaurant, trumpets blared from the speakers, and a performance artist rolled out a trolley into the center of the dining area. Something large and blocky was on the trolley. At first, the woman couldn't make out what it was. There seemed to be a square-shaped object underneath the white table cloth?

The lights dimmed; a spotlight turned on; a drumroll played. It was purposely made to seem dramatic and ominous. The performer grabbed the cloth—several times feigning a reveal—until abruptly, and in a grand overture, he removed it.

A block of ice.

He smiled and gestured, before retrieving a hammer and ice pick. Carefully placing the pick at the center of the block, he lifted the hammer and in one swift powerful blow, brought it crashing down. Tiny shards of ice flew in the air. Some fell on the onlookers. The block bloke—broke and split in half. Raising his arms in celebration of the marvelous achievement, he bowed and scurried away.

Once the lights illuminated the dining area again, the woman stared at the man and exclaimed, "what a marvelous performance! Whatever does it mean?"

"Can never really tell. How have you been?" He replied.

"Well, I was really hoping I'd get some—"

"Aaaaaah!"

"What's wrong with you?"

But he only screamed again and fell to the floor.

"Is there a doctor in the house?" She yelled.

Sitting at a nearby table, an older gentleman wiped his face and quickly stood. "I'm a doctor." He said and approached the man on the floor. With eyebrows strained in thought, he pursed his lips and looked to the woman. "What seems to be the problem here?"

"I don't know! You tell me? That's why I asked for a doctor! Doctor, what's wrong with him?"

The man kept screaming in pain.

"Hmm, I think I know what's happening here. He seems to be suffering from contractions", the doctor said gravely.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

"There might be something. Perhaps you can attempt a bit of eccentricity?"

Perplexed, the woman stared at him. "Do you think that will actually work?"

He looked uncertain, but nodded. "At this point, we should try everything we can."

"Ok. I learned a few new things." She squared off her shoulders and stood near the man. "Yo, imma 'bout to getcha outta yer funk and fixna to getcha better'n now!"

The man released a blood-curdling scream and convulsed, before settling into a frozen state.

"Doctor! He's stopped moving completely! It didn't seem to help in the least bit—", she noticed the doctor grabbing the man's drink. "Um, what are you doing?"