You want to understand the reality of the situation. However, this may not be easy to do.

 

This troubles you. So you try to find the answer . . .

 

 

In The News Today

 

I sat at the kitchen table scanning the articles in the Sunday paper. Most were about how our new president had done this, that, or something else I had trouble understanding. But politics has never been my love, so I just pushed what I’d seen into the back of my mind.

 

Looking out the window, I wondered about the weather, as my wife and I were planning to take a drive in the country this afternoon. But the weather information wasn’t in the paper. I went through every section, most not worth reading beyond the headline, and couldn’t find it. I muttered, “Dammit, our paper keeps getting smaller, but more costly.”

 

I leaned back and stared at the ceiling. What I saw blew my mind—speech bubbles drifting across the room.

 

“You wanted news, so that’s what will give you. Okay, Lionel, you may begin.”

“Today is a day you’ll never forget. Buckle up for the road is going to be bumpy.”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. Where was this coming from, I thought.

“This is what you wanted? Isn’t it?”

“Holy crap, are you reading my mind?”

“Isn’t that what a good reporter does?”

This isn’t happening. I must’ve dozed off, I believed. I’m dreaming.

“If you were dreaming, it would be about girls in bikinis. You seem to think about that a lot.”

I began to shake. How did he know this?

 

I got up from the table and walked into the hallway. “Oh, crap, the bubbles are following me,” I mumbled.

“Yes, I am. You haven’t given me a chance to tell the story.”

“What? That a storm is coming, and we shouldn’t go for a drive in the country? You can’t be serious.”

“If it were that simple, you would have found it on page four of the paper.”

“What if I want to end this now—and forever?”

“Just call the paper. But nobody’s going to answer. You have a lifetime subscription.”

“I have a what?”

“If you live? We live with you?”

“This is a joke? Right?”

“If my humor was that good, I’d be on stage and not stuck in some godforsaken windowless office.”

“So, if I believe you, then what’s the rest of the story?”

There was no response. And then . . .

 

The headline read, “TODAY WE CELEBRATE THE LIVES OF HARRIS AND MARIE WYKOFF. These two wonderful people died on the somewhat bumpy highway of life last Sunday afternoon.”

 

 

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