Wednesday, April 6, 2016

Captain's Log, Day 165: A Trip Through The Archives--Short Person Problems

          So, I was digging through my pictures today, trying to locate a specific photo I took back in college of a praying mantis (because I suddenly thought of it out of nowhere and I wanted to find it--there's no logical reason here; carry on) when I stumbled upon an old video that lacked a thumbnail, which prompted me to do two things, the first of which involved clicking upon it (because I cannot resist clicking things, which is why I have some really good virus protection on my computer) and the second involved writing this really long run-on sentence (which is possibly the longest ever written on Maximum Effect) to basically tell you that the clip was a) hilarious and b) about to be transcribed and I think this sentence needs to be taken out back and shot, by the way.
          It's been a long day at work. Humor me.

          The setting: undergrad. The cast: myself (due to my lack of photogenicness and the fact that I was the one filming this, I never appeared in the video), Shorty, Brad, Betsy, and Chris. The stage: outside the apartments where Betsy and Shorty lived. The central conflict?
          Brad was trying to steal Shorty's wallet.
          Why, you might ask? Well, there were two main reasons. Reason One is that this was Shorty, and for some reason (possibly her height), her friends kept swiping everything from her phone to her wallet to her shoes (the shoes one was always funny). Reason Two was that Brad had a massive crush on her that was obvious to everyone except Shory, and manifested itself in repeated pranks. Under normal circumstances, I would have aided and abetted Brad; however, in this instance, Shorty had promised to drive Betsy, Brad, and myself to Walmart and owed me about two cases of root beer--she lost a lot of bets, jinxes, and Uno games--so I figured she needed her wallet in order to pay up. Therefore, I stayed out of it; she was more than capable of beating the tar out of Brad, and I apparently wanted to film it anyway.
          "Give me my WALLET BACK!" Shorty ordered, her giggling kind of undermining her attempt to sound threatening. She had somehow managed to snag Brad's hand--the one that held her wallet--and was now orbiting him like a small localized satellite. Brad grinned at me and maintained his death grip on her possession, pivoting on one foot so Shorty couldn't get his arm behind his back.
          "Betsy!" Shorty pleaded.
          Betsy proved to be no help, grabbing Brad's other arm and dancing around him. Shorty giggled again despite herself. "Let GO!"
          Betsy let go suddenly, despite the order clearly having been directed at Brad. Suddenly off balance, Brad spun in a slightly wider circle and ended up with his arm around Shorty. It wasn't a terrible situation for him to be in, except that Shorty had a death grip on his digits that suddenly got uncomfortable. "OW! My thumb!"
          "Let. GO!" Shorty tried again.
          Brad looked thoughtful. "You're always, like, dislocating my thumb."
          "I know! That's 'cuz you're always stealing--"
          "And this is what happens when you have first world problems, kids," Chris announced, apropos of nothing (although he may have noticed me recording and wanted to speak to posterity).
          "Brad? BRAD! I'm gonna kick you!" Shorty threatened.
          Brad ignored her, given that a) she wasn't really in a position to kick him and b) she wasn't tall enough to kick anything valuable. Shorty started orbiting him again, possibly trying to get in a decent position. Or possibly running out of ideas.
          "Um, what are you trying to do?" Brad asked.
          Shorty laughed. "I don't know EITHER!" Her voice got high-pitched--I mean, higher-pitched than it already was. "Give it back! Ohmygosh, what it your problem?"
          I thought about answering that one, but decided to stay out of it. Brad grinned. "You?"
          Shorty suddenly looked at me. "Are you actually filming this?"
          I snickered.
          "I'm coming for you next," she warned me.
          Betsy, meanwhile, was trying to poke Brad in the ear. Brad suddenly turned and tried to swat her.
          "Yah! Dude! You got my finger!" Betsy yelped, dancing back.
          Brad gave her a look.
          "This is escalating," Chris noted with the kind of enthusiasm normally reserved for observing cafeteria food fights.
          "I know. It gets outta hand pretty fast," Betsy admitted. Given our specific natures for this particular group of friends, that had to have been the understatement of the month. She turned to Brad. "I was trying to get your ear. You should have accepted it."
          "NO!" Brad said loudly and indignantly.
          Shorty struggled with his hand. "Okay! Let...go...already!"
          Brad laughed. She tugged. He yelped. "OW!"
          Chris and I started laughing. Brad let out a melodramatic "AAAAaaaaaggghhh" and dropped to his knees on the pavement, arm locked out behind him courtesy of Shorty.
          Shorty half-turned to check on him. "That actually felt bad. Are you okay?"
          Brad chuckled. "Yeah, I'm fine."
          "Then LET GO!" Shorty shrieked and started trying to pry his fingers loose again. Brad managed to get his arm free, leaving Shorty hanging on to the strap of her wallet as Brad sprang to his feet.
          "It's escalating," Betsy intoned.
          "It really is tending to escalate quickly," Chris agreed, clearly in love with the word "escalate."
          Shorty gave Brad a look. "I'm going this way," she proclaimed and pulled. Surprised, Brad lost his grip on her wallet; Shorty quickly yanked it back to safety.
          "What was the goal? Were you trying to steal her phone?" Betsy asked.
          "Little bit." Brad leaned over and whispered something to Betsy. Her eyes lit up; a moment later, they were both sprinting after her roommate.
          Shorty heard them coming, but didn't turn around in time. "Let's give you a lift!" Brad proposed.
          "Huh? Wait--WHAAA?" Shorty yelped.
          Brad grabbed her arms. Betsy grabbed her legs, and they started carrying her towards the apartment. Chris and I burst out laughing and followed.
          Shorty was giggling helplessly as Brad and Betsy hauled her along. Betsy took a look around and burst out laughing as well. "This is getting really creepy, Brad!"
          Brad snickered. "My trunk is not a closed trunk, Betsy; we'll have to--"
          "It has a table in it! I know!" Betsy returned.
          "Betsy, did you see the look Security gave us?" Shorty asked.
          Everyone turned. Sure enough, the campus security (which was a massive misnomer at this particular college) had actually given us a second glance as they drove past.
          "Security totally just gave us a look," Betsy laughed.
          Shorty shrugged--an impressive feat, since Brad had decided to shift his grip to her shoulders for easier carrying. "Am I gonna have to call them later?"
          "Wait, are we going up?" Betsy asked as we paused by the breezeway. (She and Shorty lived on the third floor.)
          "I dunno," Brad said thoughtfully.
          "No! Not the STAIRS! NOT THE STAIRS! EEP!" Shorty yelped.
          Betsy tried to back up, tripped, and sat down on the second step. "Go ahead first, I can't do that," she ordered Brad, dropping Shorty's legs so she could stand back up. Brad obediently swiveled so his back was to the incline.
          "No, no, no," Shorty giggled.
          "Grab her feet," Brad told Betsy.
          "LEGGO," Shorty ordered them both, trying to sound threatening and failing entirely--possibly because she was laughing too hard. "No no no--I am not comfortable with this! STAIRS!"
          Brad started backing up. "Betsy, you gotta move--"
          "I am!" she protested. (Their coordination needed a little work.)
          They made it to the top amidst much laughter from everyone. "Should we--" Brad started, indicating the next set of stairs.
          "NO!" Shorty yelled, then fixed Betsy with a stare. "YOU! Drop me! And YOU--" she elbowed Brad, "Leggo!"
          I couldn't breathe, I was laughing so hard. Betsy dropped Shorty's legs obediently; Brad kept holding on.
          "Brad. Release me," Shorty snickered.
          "Can't. Arms are too tired," Brad protested weakly.
          Betsy bent over, panting. "Oh, man, Shorty. I'm not trying to say anything, but...whew."
          Brad, sensing that the wrath of Shorty might be released in a moment, promptly let go. Shorty gave it a moment's thought, then shot an outraged look at Betsy.
          "You look really tousled," Betsy offered, and then realized that probably wasn't the best recovery after her weight insinuations. "'s really attractive!"
          Shorty ran a hand through her hair, trying to untangle it (a lost cause, if I'd ever seen one). "I'm not driving you to Walmart," she said, mock-severely. Brad tried to help with her hair; she swatted his hand away and pointed her finger at him. "I'm not talking to you!" she decided, giggling.
          "Yes you are," Brad snickered.
          I made the mistake of laughing. Shorty spun around to face me. "And YOU--"
          ...and....that's where the video ended. A total bummer--I'm curious as to what my fate was.
          Maybe I should call Brad and see if he remembers.
          And maybe I should put this on YouTube....?

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