Randy, I know that look on your face, but just keep the flashlight steady and listen to me, all right? Here...put your hand against this part of the wall right here. Now tap on it. Hear that echo? It goes through the entire thing. Which means this wall, which we know from the schematics to be no more than five inches thick, is also hollow as a drum. Look at this hole someone accidentally kicked in it last month--you could break through this thing in about three seconds if you wanted to bad enough. Seems we’re confronted with some basic, incontrovertible facts here. Number one: tomorrow morning at ten a.m., the 2010 Chumbler’s County Cat Show will begin in this space, drawing more than seven hundred and fifty attendees over the course of two days. Number two: the cat show crowd will be separated from space 2A by a hollow five inch wall which can be breached practically by breathing on it. Now it’s fact number three which terrifies me, Randy, absolutely terrifies me. Point the flashlight at the registration book, right here. Hold the beam steady, now. Read those words and try not to panic.
That’s right. Noon tomorrow is when the Association of Portly Women Who Tend to Wear Sweatshirts Advertising Midwestern Vacation Spots convenes for their semi-annual convention, right beyond this wall. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me they won’t be able to hear what’s happening on the other side. You tell me that, dammit! Because if and when they do...I don’t want to think about it. I just don’t. What I want is for you to round up Sal and Pepito and Luscious Larry and get them out here on the double, because if we start right now, we might just be able to collect enough bricks and cement to thwart a potential catastrophe. This building was not even remotely designed for a possible stampede like the one we’re facing--we’re missing three fire extinguishers, the structural integrity of the floor itself is by no means guaranteed, and Mercy Hospital is chronically understaffed since Target started hiring again. If two inevitably attracting forces are going to collide tomorrow, Randy, they’re going to be a bottle of Michelob Ultra and my grateful mouth, and nothing else, not if I can help it. Because this has happened before, and no one learned. What happened was...well, there was this one group of people in this building, and at some point they became aware of something close by that really compelled them...just a second, it’ll come to me...
Oooo...what a weird feeling I just had, Randy. I don’t know why, but I just got this sense that somewhere out there, there’s some dude sitting in front of a battered typewriter trying to come up with one more easily-mocked-segment-of-the-population-is-wildly-attracted-to-something-they-tend-to-really-go-for analogy in order to close out a blog entry with a cheap joke, and he just can’t seem to pound one out, mostly because his boss keeps passing by his cubicle and if he gets caught slacking off again, it’s back down to Elixirs and Potions where he started, and this time the lead apron stays on through the entire ten hour shift--no exceptions. Do you ever get that feeling?
No? How about the feeling that somebody somewhere has just sat down to eat a baked potato, not realizing that it happens to look exactly like them? Could you imagine? Could you imagine them dying someday having no idea what they had eaten?
These are the things I think about, Randy. Will you hold me?
THE CRITICAL CONSENSUS OF TODAY’S BLOG ENTRY:
Blogs in Review: D+
Woman’s Day: C-
Electronic Media Monthly: D-
The Boston Herald: F
Cat Fancier: F
Mom: B for effort