WWGeezusD vs. WWGoofusD

Juli Kearns Everyday Stories

Geezus and Goofus are intrepid urban explorers playing ice hockey on an ice-sheeted basement in an abandoned warehouse. Whee! Whack! Fun!

Geezus and Goofus find a dead body encased in ice from head to its kneecaps in a cargo elevator in said warehouse.

Goofus: Wow, look! A dead body! Should we wonder who it is and by what sad circumstance this person, born of homely woman and man, found themselves in this past-precarious position?

Geezus: Sad or shady, what do we care, dear Goofus? It’s Detroit! Obvious to us both he was a man down on his luck. Such shall always be with us. Even as we speak, they multiply. And we’ve a game to finish playing.

Goofus: Whether does it matter that it’s Detroit or Dallas? Rich man or poor? Should we at least not somberly consider that there but for Godot’s grace go I?

Geezus: Consider, is that no less self-centered than our game?

Goofus: He has family to be found who await news of their dear…departed?

Geezus: How considerate to provide them this parting image of a perhaps beloved son, husband, father, brother, uncle, nephew?

Goofus: Sigh. And what if he was unloved? Sadder yet it gets. Sympathy would shower him with flowers, but it is winter and the clouds have no pity.

Geezus: The afternoon wanes.

Goofus: Or is it better yet to imagine here lies one whose deeds have found their just reward?

Geezus: Whatever. The world is a stage and all plots written by the Coen brothers. What says the script?

Goofus: To play the puck?

Geezus: Let tomorrow take care of its yesterdays. Today’s game is enough for us.

Curtain descends.

Someone somewhere finds a new American Iceman Cometh to symbolize empty dreams, hopelessness and anonymous conclusions, and creates a jpg of black sneakers and white ankle socks protruding from an ice cube. “Oh, cool!” says the internet, replicating it with vigorous, viral speed. Thus does the hapless iceman find success as an icon.