(Author's Preface: Since the news broke regarding the death of two very disparate personalities, Fidel Castro and Florence Henderson, I knew an unconventional tribute was in order. Though I'm sure it's not necessary to state these simple factoids but, for the sake of the one person reading this who has been living under a rock for the past millennium, Castro ruled as dictator of Cuba for 47 years and Henderson was a TV and Broadway actress who is best remembered as the matriarch of TV's smash sitcom The Brady Bunch. This brief conversation between the two icons is fictional, obviously, and should not be used in any scholarly work, including but not limited to Cuban Military History or The Philosophy of the Sexual Undertones of The Brady Bunch.)
(The scene is a blank white void, completely shorn of any decoration, save a wooden bench in the middle of the stage. Seated on the left is Fidel Castro, slouched and sullen, and on the right is Florence Henderson, rigid and adjusting the wrinkles in her bell-bottom jeans. They are the ultimate Odd Couple.)
Florence: (after an appropriately awkward silence, complete with nervous tittering) So, they got you too, Comandante?
Fidel: (grunts, adjusting his iconic hat) Si, but it was The Madonna that called me home.
Florence: I didn't realize that Madonna's appeal was that wide?
(another awkward silence)
It's amazing to think that both of our faces will be on the same obituary page.
Fidel: What makes you think that you're worthy enough to be seated next to me?
Florence: Because the big guy told me to!
Florence: Not that big.
(yet another silence)
So, what did you do on Earth?
Florence: I was married to a closeted gay man who designed houses.
Fidel: How was that?
Florence: It was fun at first, but once they introduced that bastard Oliver he spent far less time with me.
Fidel: I don't understand a word you say, Miss.
Florence: There was an ocean dividing us, Fidel. It's understandable.
Fidel: In Cuba, I was living in a bubble. I had no idea of the world around me or even that the globe was still spinning. Time stood still, implacable, immovable time.
Florence: They tried to trap me in that bubble as well. The 70's bubble. No one wanted to see me as anyone but Mrs. Carol Brady, model housewife, and professional virgin. The way they treated me, you'd forget that those three shrieking children crawled out of my womb.
Fidel: You women are all the same, you know? You never fail to throw childbearing into the conversation. Weren't you taught the manners that befit a woman in your youth?
Florence: Yes, I was, but I worked my entire life to ensure that the next generation of girls wouldn't be born with chains around their ankles.
Fidel: How then could you elect a president such as Mr. Trump?
Florence: Trump wasn't elected by the future, he was borne of the past. Any man who talks of grabbing a woman by her...unmentionables...should not be allowed to speak for a nation.
Fidel: I applaud his honesty. Very few leaders have the guts to say what they mean.
Florence: Did you?
Fidel: (proudly) I did. I was born a revolutionary and I died a revolutionary. I became what I became to lead my country into the future. The rest, as they say, is history.
Were you one of Kennedy's Harem?
Florence: (flustered, unable to come up with anything to refute the underpinnings of his statement) Speaking of presidents who couldn't keep it in their pants. Poor Jackie.
Fidel: Lovely woman, terrible fate. The hand of fate is the guiding force of politics. Read the stories of The Greeks; no one knew fate better than they.
Florence: I was an actress, once. I dreamed of playing Electra and Blanche DuBois, but I was forever "a lovely lady."
Fidel: Is that such an improper fate? At the very least, they remembered you? Thousands of actors have died without the feeling of mass recognition.
Florence: (thinks it over and smirks) I suppose you have a point there, Fidel.
Fidel: (after a silence) I suppose we will be leaving this room soon.
Florence: You dream of moments like this, but you never picture it actually happening.
Fidel: There was so much left to do. I was not ready to leave.
Florence: Is anyone ever ready?
Fidel: Mr. Nixon was.
(the bright white of the stage begins to die out until the two disparate bodies are all we see)
Two strangers meet in the afterlife. One says to the other, "Where are you headed?" The other answers, "Hell." "What did you do?" "I killed my mother." "Why?" "She told me she thought Betty White was a c**t."
(Florence ascends upwards, as Fidel sinks)
If you like what I do and wish to support my endeavors, I implore you to spend a few dollars each month to support me on Patreon.com! Follow this link to view my page and thank you for your generosity!
Also, I would like to invite you to visit my new website, StevenKrage.com! I'm very proud of my new creation and would love to hear your feedback about it.
And the newest episode of my podcast, The Objectivist and The Vegan, has been uploaded to SoundCloud!
In this episode, Steven and Jack discuss the results of the election!
Click the orange button in the widget below and listen to our ramblings!