THE CLICHÉ EXPERT IN RECOVERY
by ROGER ANGELL

(Mr. Chip Arbuthnot, the cliché expert, enters the courtroom slowly and takes his place in the witness box. He is wearing a neck brace.)

Q: Mr. Arbuthnot! You look terrible!

A: Ow!

Q: I'm so sorry. Have you been in an accident?

A: Negative. I just overdid it.

Q: A party?

A: More stress-related.

Q: But you've seen a doctor, I see.

A: I went to my man.

Q: And he—

A: Sent me to his man—his go-to guy.

Q: Yes, of course. But your neck?

A: He took some tests.

Q: And then?

A: He tweaked them.

Q: Ah, yes!

A: We had a defining moment. I'd had more than a man could bear.

Q: I'm sorry—more what?

A: Why, more heads-ups, of course. Everyone was giving them to me, on a daily basis. Dozens of them, 24/7. "I'm sending you a heads-up." "Just wanted to give you a little heads-up . . ." From my department head. From my wife, from my dog-walker. The latte lady. No wonder my neck gave way. That and the rest.

Q: There's more?

A: Damn right. What about taking no prisoners?

Q: O.K. Is there anything else?

A: Sure, there's more.What about the shooting?

Q: Shooting?

A: Well, not shooting, technically. Not shooting the messenger.

Q: Strenuous stuff. Also raising the bar, perhaps?

A: There's no end to that. And what about telephone tag? At my age!

Q: Plus thinking—thinking—uh, it's on the tip of my tongue.

A: Thinking outside the box.

Q: Thank you! That'll take it out of a cliché expert, for sure.

A: And all that boat floating.

Q: Boat floating?

A: Whatever floats your boat.

Q: But of course.

A: And don't forget the learning curve. That took a while to master, believe you me.

Q: Wow! No wonder you're all beat up. But I think—

A: Hold it right there.

Q: Huh?

A: You don't think, you have a—

Q: I have a—got it! I have a perception.

A: Bravo. And your perception is?

Q: My perception is that we've been getting our ducks in a row here.

A: If you will. Quote unquote.

Q: Mr. Arbuthnot, I have to say it. You're still in top form here, despite all. And these haven't been easy times for a cliché expert, have they?

A: No, the market has been terrible.

Q: You've lost a lot?

A: Yes. The good days are gone. What fools we were. We were in cliché heaven, and then, almost overnight—just think about it. "Slippery slope" has bottomed out. "Arguably" is worth pennies today. "With all the bells and whistles" is a dead guppy. "No-brainer," "My plate is full," "written in stone," "I.I.R.S."—these were blue chips just last year. All gone-zo. My portfolio is tapped.

Q: It's shocking. But what's "I.I.R.S."—something to do with taxes? I know I should know, but—

A: "It isn't rocket science."

Q: Yes, of course. I'm sorry.

A: Don't feel bad—I'm comfortable with us. This has been good face time.

Q: Really!

A: Yes, you resonate with me.

Q: Why, Mr. Arbuthnot! You flatter me.

A: Yep. You're a regular hottie.

Q: Zowie! Damn, man!

A: No, you da man!

Q: I am?

A: You my rap star! You mah Antowayne! You mah—

Q: Mr. Arbuthnot! Contain yourself! We are not a gangsta. This is a courtroom, not a dog-and-pony show.

A (crestfallen): Yes, you're right, of course. It's just that it's such fertile ground.

Q: Entendu. But now what's happening, Mr. Arbuthnot? You've grown extremely pale.

A: Uh-oh. And you, too. I can see the whole courtroom here—it's like I'm looking through you.

Q: And I can see your spine, right behind your tasteful Ferragamo.

A: Can it be? Yes, it is!

TOGETHER: We've achieved transparency!