That One Show with the Stuff and the Things

Curtain rises. REPORTER, MR. JABOWSKI, and JACOB are all sitting around a small round table. REPORTER is writing in notepad with a bowler hat in his lap.

MR. JABOWSKI: The day my wife acquired magical powers, we sold the family business. It was the only logical choice considering that the ability to uncontrollably shoot fire out of one’s hands was not exactly conducive to maintaining a fireworks factory. I was devastated, naturally. This business had been passed down through my family for generations, from father to son ever since fireworks were first invented back in 1802.

REPORTER: Um, weren’t fireworks technically invented way back in 7th century China?

MR. JABOWSKI: No no, that’s just another government cover up ploy. You see, my ancestors, they were British. Brought fireworks to America personally when they came here. These silly American’s just don’t want to admit that the British actually did something cooler than themselves, they would rather give credit to old school China.

REPORTER: …Right.

MR. JABOWSKI: Now you know. As I was saying, I was devastated. Absolutely devastated. And my eldest son, Jacob, I know he took it pretty hard too.

JACOB: Actually Dad, I’m alright. There is a reason I’m in pre-med, and it isn’t so I could spend my entire life in retail.

MR. JABOWSKI: It’s not just retail, Jacob, it’s magic.

JACOB: Mom can shoot actual fire out of her hands. I think that’s magic.

REPORTER: Wait, so Mr. Jabowski, and Jabowski… junior?

JACOB: Please, just Jacob. Please.

REPORTER: Jacob then. You seem pretty reasonable, do you mean to say that you think your mother actually has magical abilities?

JACOB: I don’t just think it, I know. She can shoot fire right out of her hands, just like in the movies. I’ve seen it.

MR. JABOWSKI: That’s not the point, Jacob! You haven’t worked the factory enough to understand what real magic is. You don’t understand what it feels like to lovingly mix together some cesium nitrate, line it with lithium chloride and titanium flakes, pack in a bit of carbon black for fuel, then give it just a kiss of fire to bring it all to life in glittering showers of red and violet that light up the barren night sky. That, my son, is real magic.

REPORTER and JACOB are silent as they stare at MR. JABOWSKI in confusion. JACOB regains his composure.

JACOB: Unfortunately, Mom’s magic is a little bit more than a ‘kiss of fire,’ so I think hers wins. Plus, she’s in the middle of going through menopause, so there’s really no hope controlling it.

REPORTER: This is fascinating, but I was wondering if we could get back to—

MR. JABOWSKI: Look Jacob, I suppose that now is as good a time as any to tell you.

JACOB: Tell me what?

REPORTER: —how the Mrs. got her powers…

MR. JABOWSKI: That your mother and I are expecting you to buy back the business someday.

JACOB: What! I’m in college! Studying for medical school! To become a doctor, not to run some shoddy sparkler shop!

REPORTER: Um, if I may…

MR. JABOWSKI: Sparkler shop! Son, this business has been our family’s way of life for generations, and it’s not going to stop now because of your mother’s condition! You are in school on a scholarship, and only so that you can get yourself a decent salary so that you can buy back the factory as quickly as possible.

JACOB: You’re insane! You can’t make me!

JACOB and MR. JABOWSKI both jump to their feet.

MR. JABOWSKI: Don’t test me boy!

JACOB: Or what? You’ll explode like one of your precious firecrackers?

MR. JABOWSKI: That’s ‘fireworks’ to you!

REPORTER resigns and closes his notebook. He lifts his bowler hat from his lap and places it on his head.

REPORTER: Well now, I can see that you two have quite a bit to talk about. And I do believe that I have enough information now to write my article. The National Enquirer will be quite pleased to publish this story. Congratulations, and I hope you both have a wonderful rest of your day.

Exit REPORTER. MR. JABOWSKI and JACOB continue arguing. Curtain closes.