"I rode my bike down the street this morning to get some breakfast. Halfway there, I realized I left my phone at home. I thought, 'Geeze, I better go back and get it, it's Friday the Thirteenth, you know, something might happen'. But, you know, I just said screw it, man." Van Man nodded in acknowledgement that it was, indeed, Friday the Thirteenth.
"So, I'm buying my breakfast and you know what the total was? Six, six, six. I couldn't believe it, on Friday the Thirteenth!", finished the Vet and walked away in lingering disbelief. Van Man needed a coffee.
Time spent conversing with his fellow cast members was always most enriching. An actress, who spent her days as a lawyer, was no exception. She was the kind of woman who was devoted to doing the right thing, but had a bad girl streak buried deep within. It was their second walk on the planks together and he had come to understand her eccentricities. And appreciate her goodness. Miss Lawless was one of those nice girls toughened up by life. She had been through some major downs, but would not allow the black hole of depression to swallow her up. Van Man liked her grit.
Perhaps, it was great irony that Greek Tragedy existed. Or any drama, at all. Was it only properly performed by those with tragedies in their own lives? Bad things happened to everyone. He knew that. It was one of the single, purest truths of life. Some dealt with the pain easier than others. As the Van Mother once said, "Some people fall down and get right back on up. Others fall and don't know how to get back up." Miss Lawless knew how to. So did The Van Man. They were survivors. Oedipus and Creon were not. "Six, six, six on my receipt, man!", said The Vet as the actors were called to places.