I'm Late, I'm Late, to a Very Impor . . . Nah, it's Just Work

I was late to work yesterday because of a minor car accident. A car decided to rear end an SUV right at the intersection of Springwood Road that I wanted to turn left onto. The line of traffic behind them stretched west to the continental shelf in the Atlantic Ocean. There were tug boats pulling cars out into the water to their place in line. A mermaid was selling breakfast kippers to businessmen and a 92’ Dodge was boarded by pirates.

I made the sanity-saving decision to turn right instead. Rush Limbaugh congratulated me on his radio show and my cell phone was immediately robo-called by Michelle Bachmann, Mitt Romney and local candidate for garbage commissioner Earl “Mud Skipper” Delaney.

I had avoided the long line of stationery cars but now had to drive in a wide circle to get back onto Springwood Road about a mile east of the accident. At the first traffic light I was accosted by teenagers waiting for the school bus. A boy with dyed black hair thrust a geometry book through my open window and screamed:

“a ² + b ² = c ²! What does it mean? Is it the meaning of life? Is it a secret code? Help me!”

Luckily I had won 5^th place in a high school talent show with my impersonation of Pythagoras. I was able to calm him down and finish problems 12-15 and show my work. Then a short, angry-looking girl swore at me for being an adult on general principle. Finally the light turned green.

I turned left at the light and was welcomed back by a hearty “Huzzah” from Al Franken, Michael Moore and Alec Baldwin. I had to go up a very steep hill, like driving up the side of the Matterhorn. Halfway up I passed three Sherpas burying a dead hiker. My car engine whined like a Republican asking for tax cuts but made it up the hill.

I came to another traffic light and turned left again receiving a “Well done” from the Huffington Post. I drove about a half mile to the next traffic light and turned left again and received nothing from anyone because that joke has run its course.

I was now on a winding country lane which would lead me to the promised land of Springwood Road. As I drove past a wide open field I glanced over when I saw movement. A hawk the size of a passenger bus was swooping down over the field coming straight for my car. I watched as he rose in the air again and then dove at the hood of my Chevy Cavalier, wrapping his talons around my windshield wipers. Flapping his wings with the authority John Boehner only believes he has, I felt my car being lifted off the ground. I squeezed the lever for the wiper fluid and watched as a stream of the bluish liquid hit the bird in the eyes. He squawked loudly, shaking his head and finally loosened his grip. My car fell to earth twenty feet farther down the road. I accelerated leaving the dazed hawk flying in circles around a weather vane trying to pick a fight.

When I reached the intersection with Springwood Road I turned right receiving a congratulatory email from Fox News. Yes, I went there again. It’s referred to as a “callback”.

I reached work 10 minutes late. After telling my tale to my boss, exactly as I have recounted it for you here, she said she only believed a few words of it. She thought I was exaggerating. Me! I haven’t been so insulted since the ghost of Ernest Hemingway told me I use too many adjectives.

Anyway I had to stay an extra ten minutes to make up the time, but I got the last laugh. I didn’t do a lick of work; instead I played cards with a troll, a spider monkey and a Jimmy Stewart impersonator. Me exaggerate? Please.