Second Post

Well this is the second time I’ve started this post. I apparently didn’t save it to the right spot and now it’s dead. Well, I guess I’ll just figure something out. Anyways, on a totally unrelated topic, have you seriously thought about the number 0? It’s not positive, but it’s not negative. It’s not a lot, but it’s not a little. If something is free, it costs $0. If you’re bankrupt, you have $0. 100 couldn’t be 100 without the help of our little friend the 0. Neither could 1000. Or 1,000,000. Anyways, sorry ADHD kicked into overdrive. I’ve been asked to tell a story with a little twist. So here goes:

It was a dark night. The rain was patting softly on my window. I was sitting quietly and peacefully in my office. There was jazz music coming from somewhere outside. I just listened to it. I didn’t try to figure out where it came from. But other than that, the only noise was from my fan circling above my head.

There was a knock on my door. The postman came in to deliver a package. “Slow day?” he asked. I nodded my head and took the package. “Well, hope you have a better day tomorrow,” he said as he left. I quietly agreed with him. It had been a slow week. Nobody had come to get me to find their lost puppy or track down their ex.

Right as a said this, another knock at my door came and in came this dame crying something about her old boyfriend. I said, “look, I’ll help you out, but please don’t cry. I find it rather annoyin.” She swiftly sobered up. She told me all they had done together and where he usually goes. I quickly narrowed down the list of place he could be when I finally figured it out. He was at the bar drowning his sorrows in a shot of whiskey. She thanked me and I noticed a slight change in her mood as she left. I began to wonder what would happen to the poor fellow. I opened up my package and there was a little present with tissue paper stuffed inside. I pulled out the tissue paper and I saw that there was a ticket to the Blue Man Group in there. I was happy. I loved the Blue Man Group. But I had to keep my calm composure. I didn’t want to be seen as a loony.

Shortly after I opened my present, I decided to go to the local pizza joint. I put on my jacket and hat and stepped outside. I heard the jazz music louder this time. It wasn’t just my imagination. I flipped up my collar and started toward the pizza joint. As I was walking, a strange thought came to my mind. The number 0. It was neither negative nor positive. Not a lot nor a little. What did it want with us? What did we ever do to it? It was an incredible paradox. After a time, I made it to the pizza joint. As I put a hand on the door handle, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. “You ready to go?” I dropped my hand and said, “To the Blue Man Group? Yeah. Let’s go.” I turned around and my dad was standing there behind me. We went to see the show and had many a good laugh. After the show, I got to meet the fellows in the group. They didn’t talk much. But I did get them to stamp a handprint on my hat. Good times.

Well I had to go to the School for some detective work. I went in to different classes and told about what I do. The kids loved it, but the teachers weren’t so happy about it. Anyway, what did it matter? They were brainwashing the kids to do something productive instead of what they want to do. Not that I’m complaining, I love my job.

I was on my way out when out of nowhere, someone came and K.O.ed me with a single hit to the back of the head. I remember being dragged to some van, shots were fired, and I lost my consciousness.

I woke up without my hat. I was tied to a chair and suddenly a light came on, shining directly into my face. I heard a gruff voice say “Who do you work for?” I and my sarcastic self, couldn’t help but laugh in the face of danger. “Your waitress at the waffle house.” There was a quick punch to the gut.

“Is that all you got?!” I grunted. Apparently, he didn’t like it that much. I got kicked off balance and fell to the floor. “Who do you work for?” The voice shouted.

“Oh, so you gonna pitch a fit, cuz I won’t tell you?” I think the person behind the light got tired of talking to my sarcasm because he started to come forward. My hands being tied up, I couldn’t do much, but I pulled out some moves and was able to trip him and cut one hand loose. I had my hand on his Colt revolver before his friend could get up. “Don’t move or your buddy gets it,” I said. It didn’t take a master detective to see that the guy was lining up his shot. Before he pulled the trigger, I planted a slug in his right shoulder. He wasn’t getting up anytime before supper. With any luck, he’ll be able to move that arm within a month. I told the guy I was holding hostage to cut my other arm loose. I thanked the man and promptly repaid the favor he paid me outside of the school.

I took a quick search of the room and found my hat. I looked one last time in the room I was held hostage in. “Nobody takes my hat and gets away with it,” I said to the sleeping and unconscious fellows in the floor. I turned around and left. But I decided to turn the lights off. No use wasting electricity.

Well, It was a slow week again after that little stunt. Business was as usual and life was normal. I never got bothered again by those guys from the school. Like I said. It was a slow week. But somehow, I was alright with that. The jazz music was back again and I liked the tune. The rain was still patting against my window, but it wasn’t a threatening flood sound. More like a gentle drizzle sound. I liked that, too. I had a feeling that today was going to be a good day.