#OngoingAdventure: Don’t Go To The Meeting
Part of a collaborative Choose Your Own Adventure
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Your stomach stuffed with ramen and your head resting against the faux camel hair pillow, you sink further into the couch. Briefly, you consider the letter and then decide it is time to let it go.
You never liked poetry anyway and haikus? You recall your sixth-grade guitar-playing teacher, lanky in the belted togas he often wore, strumming out a few haiku creations. Something about syllables being important sticks in your memory.
Should you dramatically light it on fire and watch the mystery fade into blue flames? Or rip it into teeny shreds and sprinkle it from your balcony? Or perhaps leave the bits mingled with tuna outside your door for the neighbor’s wonky, twenty-five-pound porker of a cat to munch up?
You decide to call your friend Reveille. She always knows what to do.
“What do you want?” she asks as a form of greeting. Grumpy tinges her normally joy-filled voice. “I was sleeping.”
You briefly explain what is happening but there is little interest on her behalf. Is she actually listening, you wonder?
“It’s just a dream,” she insists. You try to reiterate until you realize the soft snuffly sounds are that of her snoring. She’s fallen asleep on you!
It wasn’t worth your time or mental energy you tell yourself, reaching for the remote control and flicking Netflix back into action. You still haven’t even started this Tiger King show your colleagues claim is hilariously ridiculous. Joe Exotic sounds like some Vegas stripper. Except that he resembles more of a slum landlord stuck in the 80s with too much time and peroxide on his hands.
Letter schmetter. You have better things to do, right?
Until you notice the letter is glowing. Or is that just the reflection of the TV’s nauseous glow?
©Jennifer J. McDougall 2021
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