The Ides of March

Volume XIII
Issue 7
July 2010

QuestionLady is written and played by SL Stukey, herself an Obscure Celebrity of a sort. It is likely that somewhere, sometime, you have read something she has written, especially if you live in the Midwestern United States. She has been writing promotional material, instruction manuals, and other such everyday literature for many years (she'd say how many, if she could remember what year she started, it was 1989, or maybe 1991). She always thought she'd be a real writer someday, but she's not holding her breath anymore.

She can be contacted at:

The Ides of March

The interview with the copier guy will be postponed until the April edition, as QuestionLady was visited in her office by the Ides of March. Ides was a rather abrupt visitor, breezing, or should I say, gusting, into QuestionLady’s office one afternoon while she was minding her own business. Ides was a classically handsome man, in the Greco-Roman mold (as he is a Roman invention, perhaps a Roman mold would do.) He was, however, dressed in modern clothes: jeans, oxford shirt, and a leather jacket. His overall appearance was slightly disheveled, but still gave an impression of sophistication. His wavy dark blond hair was disarranged just enough to resemble a male model in a glossy magazine.

QuestionLady: May I help you?
Ides of March: I am the Ides of March.
(He stands there as if QL should know what he wants. A gust of wind blows through the office, whisking paperwork off of the desk, and the temperature drops abruptly.)

QL: That’s nice for you, I’m sure.
IOM: I’m here to be interviewed.
(QL checks her calendar.)

QL: Um, I don’t have you scheduled.
IOM: No one schedules me! That’s the problem! No one looks forward to me! No one welcomes the Ides of March, no, it’s always ‘Beware the Ides of March’. Why not beware the Kalends of March or the Nones of March, no, no, it’s always beware of the Ides. Nones, she screams, and then laughs every time she sees me. And I’m tired of it. I’m a perfectly good day of the month.

QL (soothingly): I’m sure you are.
(Ides sits down. The wind stops and the office becomes stuffy and hot.)
IOM (sulkily): You’re just humoring me.

QL: Yup.
IOM (pouts): You have no sympathy for me. You’re just like all the rest.

QL: You’re wrong there. Of all people I would be more likely to have sympathy for you--it’s my job to interview imaginary people.
IOM (icily): I am not an imaginary person. I am a personification.

QL: Close enough.
(The wind picks up again in the office, and the temperature drops to an uncomfortable chill.)
IOM: So you admit you’re just humoring me. You don’t really care about my problem.

QL: Yes, I’m just playing along. I don’t often have an imaginary person, or personification, if you insist, arrive unannounced. There is usually some effort involved on my part, tracking them down, imagining their responses, that sort of thing. So I don’t have any anything prepared for you, question-wise.
(Wind drops, temperature becomes nice and springlike.)
IOM (coaxingly): You won’t help me improve my image?

QL: Not really. For one thing, your reputation isn’t that bad. Most people are joking when they say ‘Beware the Ides of March.’ For another, you can look at it this way: At least people have heard of you. I doubt that very many Globe-Guardian readers have ever heard of Kalends and Nones. I didn’t remember what they were until I looked them up in the dictionary just now. And, even people who joke about you, probably don’t know for sure who you are, and aren’t that worried about you. They’re more likely to beware of the Ides of April--Income Tax and all that.
(Ides sits there in a stunned silence.)

QL: Anything else?
IOM (disbelievingly): People don’t know who we are?

QL: Oh, some people do, but you’re not household words anymore.
(Ides sits there, then a smirk crosses his face.)
IOM: I’m going to go tell Kalends and Nones. That will make their days. At least people have heard of me.

(Ides grins and gusts out of QL’s office. A gust of wind slams the door shut behind him. QuestionLady picks up the papers on the floor and goes back to work.)

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