Six O’Clock

At six o’clock this afternoon, my foot was twisted. Although it is only 12:44pm, I know it has already happened, because it’s very similar to an occurence that happened to occur to H. G. Wells at the turn of the century. Unfortunately, his is a more intriguing story than mine is. However, it went like this, and please, while I am relating this, don’t eat those berries. They give me a rash. Thank you.

There will be a bird, the same one that will fly into a truck five years from now, who will be chirping in the tree outside. I’m allergic to that ree. But, only when roses are in bloom. Perhaps that is the reason for the kleenex up my nose. No matter. The truck will be going 80 miles per hour when the bird hits it. Of course, the only thing the driver will be aware of is the flashing red light upon the state troopers car. The state trooper is a family man with no kids and a wife who left him 14 years ago. He is not in a good mood.

So while the bird is singing, I fall out the window when I sneeze. Not an everyday habit of mine, I assure you, but there is a tendency for that sort of thing to happen when you are leaning out the window appreciating the spectacular color of the pair of shorts the English professor is wearing. Ever since he went to Egypt last year to see the pyramid of Khufu, he’s thought quite a lot of himself, except when he’s admiring himself in the store windows. Khufu was an egomaniac who didn’t wear shorts, but wore a skirt. But, what does he have to do with this story anyway? Hmm? Ahh, but I digress as I am falling out the window. I seem to have lost my kleenex, but that doesn’t strike me as too important since the sidewalk is about to strike me. Much in the same manner as that bird will be struck by the truck, five years from now, you recall.

So, there I am faced with a horrible dilemma and wondering who I will be blaming it upon. It’s something I can think at leisure upon now, since it is not yet six o’clock, finding someone to blame, that is.

I think it’s Ken’s fault. After all, he ate those damn berries!

January, 1991