You've Wasted Your Life

Or, Three Marbles

Far from the comforting warmth of daylight,
in a world cloaked in shadow,
our darkest and most primal fears fester,
waiting for the chance to consume us whole
as we lay awake, forever unable to sleep,
here in the midnight hour.

PulpBusters invites you to fight the dawn of pocket theater of the absurd (and other complete wastes of time) from the mind and madness of “Amoral Crackpot” Steve Arviso.

Tonight’s tale...

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A STAGE. DIGGLE BERRIES STANDS IN FRONT OF ONE MICROPHONE. ALAN SMITHEE, HOOKED UP TO ALL SORTS OF WIRES AND CABLES, STANDS IN FRONT OF ANOTHER.

ANNOUNCER: (VOICE-OVER) We now return to our regularly scheduled program, “You've Wasted Your Life”!

FANFARE AND CANNED APPLAUSE.

DIGGLE: Welcome back to the show, everyone. I'm your host, Diggle Berries. Our next contest this evening is an employed man from some town you've likely never heard of, Mr. Alan Smithee.

MORE CANNED APPLAUSE.

ALAN: Bless you.

DIGGLE: What?

ALAN: Nothing.

DIGGLE: Well, Alan. Are you ready to begin?

ALAN: (SHRUGS) Sure, I guess.

DIGGLE: That's what we love to hear! Now, Alan. Your first question: how many marbles are in this mason jar?

DIGGLE REVEALS A LARGE JAR FULL OF MARBLES ON A TABLE BESIDE HIM.

Take your time. You've got three--

ALAN: (SMILES, SHAKES HEAD) No, no, no.

DIGGLE: Excuse me?

ALAN: There's obviously more than three marbles in there.

DIGGLE LOOKS AT ALAN, TO THE JAR, BACK TO ALAN.

DIGGLE: Are you sure about that?

ALAN: (NODS) Very.

DIGGLE: Judges?

A NASTY BUZZER BUZZES.

DIGGLE: Oh! I'm so sorry, Mr. Smithee. Now, you are technically correct - there are indeed more than three marbles in this mason jar. However, our judges have determined that you are either cheating or some sort of witch. So, I'm afraid you know what that means.

ALAN: Yeah. Go ahead.

DIGGLE: Goodbye, Mr. Smithee.

ALAN: Can I tell my wife I love her?

DIGGLE: I'm sorry, but no.

ALAN: Oh, alright then. Goodbye.

DIGGLE: Don't interrupt, Mr. Smithee.

ALAN: I'm sorry.

DIGGLE: That's a good sport. Goodbye, Mr. Smithee.

DIGGLE THROWS A BIG SWITCH, ELECTROCUTES ALAN.

ALAN DROPS DEAD.

SILENCE. THEN...

DIGGLE POKES ALAN WITH A STICK, ALAN SMOLDERS UNRESPONSIVELY.

Yes, I think that did it...

DIGGLE NODS, GESTURES FOR...

FANFARE AND CANNED APPLAUSE.

(TO AUDIENCE) Well, that's all we have for you tonight. Don't bother tuning in next week, as we've likely committed several felonies during the production of tonight's program. I'm Prisoner #8675309, and this has been “You've Wasted Your Life”! Goodbye!

IT’S OVER

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The chill of night brings with it a still darkness,
brings with it an alluring promise of peace.
Till the light of day warms your cold bones,
may your eyes never rest,
and may those little slices of death never come.

And if for whatever morbid, twisted, and utterly disgusting reason you somehow enjoy PulpBusters, please consider supporting this nasty little habit via Patreon for as little as $1 a month.