Robert Leventhal

Issue 16

Flash Fiction

Since I retired, I stay home and watch Carolyn leave for work every day. Then the party begins. I blast Broadway show tunes for my Labradoodle, Rosie. Sometimes we dance together. When I sing “When You’re a Jet,” I have Rosie move like she’s in a Jerome Robbins rumble dance. I may move her paws to act out the Happy Talkie song from South Pacific. Once, Carolyn came home unexpectedly and found us in the middle of a dance number. “I’m sorry, Rosie, he was the best I could find,” she said. 

The truth is, I’m impressionable. When it comes to songs, television ads and jingles, I’m easily hooked. When I’m at home reading and writing at my desk, I often have CNN or MSNBC in the background. I mostly ignore them but when that red banner crawler comes across the bottom of the screen screaming Breaking News, my head jerks a bit. The news is usually about Trump’s legal problems. On the hour, each new commentator asks a once Republican, now Never Trumper, how much longer their former party will support The Donald. Answer—much longer. Super boring. The ads targeting us, however, are more engaging. It seems we liberals are all down with something.

Many of us are apparently suffering from COPD. We all had too many cigarettes with our expresso in college talking politics. Others have sad faces because they suffer from Bipolar 1 made worse by divisive politics. If, on the other hand, your angst is driven by a wrinkled brow or crow’s feet under your eyes, you don’t need to be embarrassed. Botox it. Others have painful and unwanted psoriasis. Skyrizi promises hope. The actress sings, “Nothing is everything. Nothing on me, that’s my new plan.” Into this media mix, a new player dances on to the stage. Jardiance claims to reduce the A1C sugar levels for diabetes patients. Evidently it’s a blast to be on Jardiance.

Ad magic. A broad shoulder, large hipped actress named Sarah takes center stage. She starts on the steps of a brownstone then shifts to a public square where she’s surrounded by an ensemble cast. They are young and fit. When you do Jardiance, evidently you end up with a world of young attractive dance-ready friends, your own fitness posse. The Jardiance energy is viral. Citizens just passing by, like the mailman, are drawn into the dance.

Breaking News: You don’t have to do chubby alone. Sarah has a supportive production team. She saunters from town square to a sidewalk hair and make-up tent for a touch-up. She waltzes into wardrobe racks for a dress change and is transformed from periwinkle blue to summer sun yellow. All our spirits are lifted. Jardiance doesn’t just control your sugar levels—it’s apparently a BIG mood changer. Who knew? Sarah leads the dancers. She does a right left two-step and then twirls around. On the lyric “big story to tell,” her arms go wide to hold all of our hopes for lower A1C and better lives.

Rosie and I have been singing about rival product Ozempic for months. I was wearing an orange shirt and forming the O with my arms for her just last week. Jardiance has knocked “oh, oh, oh Ozempic” for a loop as their dancers lease new space on my psychic desk top.

Overstimulated during the day, I try to calm down at night. I take a Tylenol PM and a Melatonin, and I’m off to dream world. Soon I begin to hear the Jardiance music. It seems the Jardiance has gone viral. There have been spontaneous expressions of love and dance in major cities around the country. Philly, Atlanta, Houston, LA are all dancing in the street, Jardiance large and loud.

Video artists are now showcasing what’s called “The Jardiance.” You move your feet to the right and then to the left, your arms swing at your side as if running. When you sing about the “big story to tell” your arms open wide to welcome the good news. The backup singers do an old school Chubby Checkers twist. Sarah finishes with her arms above her head signaling victory. Throughout the tour Sarah is still pretty big but nevermind. She gives these cities big hope.

I now visualize regional competitions, think Jardiance version of “America’s Got Talent.” In my dream, I goad Carolyn that I’ve been practicing with Rosie and will soon be going to audition. With dream-like speed, I’m on the stage singing and dancing. I strut into makeup and get a little mousse for my curly brownish gray hair. I get a bit of pancake make-up to cover some red rosacea splotches on my cheeks. I am warmly welcomed in wardrobe. They have looked at my Facebook pics and assessed my style. They’d already taken my measurements when I applied for audition. Wardrobe is now locked and loaded.  They hand me a customized Un Tuck shirt that keeps viewers from looking at my belt buckle and allows my hip movements to seem more fluid. I say, “That’s a big idea!” Our leader, Sarah, changes dresses more often than Vanna White. I get a new shirt for each city.

I’m hot. They want me to go to other cities and keep the campaign going. I don’t have Diabetes but I certainly can hope to lose weight with all this dancing and singing. The social media manager says, “Bob, you need to be a Jardiance influencer.” I begin to weigh that responsibility against all my social media fans and the whole Jardiance team.

Suddenly Rosie’s licking me. It’s 7:30 AM, time for her walk. I throw water on my face. Wow, that was an intense evening. I take Rosie for her walk but my legs feel like they’ve had a real work out. I’m walking down the sidewalk with the Jardiance two-step. My feet have a big story to tell.