The Fairy
Factoid©, "Interlude," brought to you by Andrew Barriger and his
inimitable band of pergrinationists.Coming soon to a theatre near you!
| It was Wednesday. Wednesday,
in and of itself, isn’t usually the most exciting day of the
week. “Hump Day,” we like to call it here in America, as though
to make ourselves feel better that we survived yet another week of the
skull drudgery we call living. At the Fairy Factoid, however, Wednesday is…well, okay, it’s just another day here, too, but we were on another conference call, so it was important to make it seem important. We’re not sure why, but that’s not important. We’re sure of that part. Right. So anyway, the conference call. Having successfully met the objective, as defined by management, of bringing sex to the Fairy Factoid, the team determined it was time for a vacation. After all, they have a tremendously arduous schedule of European travel coupled with a minimum two articles submitted per month. We here at the home office in Ferndale, Michigan, often hold candle-lit vigils in support of their great and noble sacrifice. “Has the readership picked up?” It was Colin, who, in a thorough break from his usual disposition, was sober and lucid. He had decided it might be a good idea to check in with the home office team, as he didn’t want us to cancel his credit card. “Yes,” I confirmed, “Readership is up over 200%.” “Cool,” Colin said. “How many does that make, exactly?” “Two.” “Two?” He was perplexed. “Well, two that we know of, anyway,” I said. “The demographics team here is pretty sure we probably have more than two, but we got two new email messages about the sex.” “Did they like the sex?” Colin inquired. “Yeah, they were all over it,” I said. “What else did they say?” the voice was somewhat husky, but higher pitched. I realized it must be Deirdre. Daniel had hired her shortly before they left for Europe and I knew very little about her except she kept her hair in a tight crew and tended to dye it nearly white. She sort of reminded me of an eighties rock singer, but I wasn’t sure why. “They’re starting to wonder what you look like,” I said. “What we look like?” This time, it was Matt, Daniel’s research assistant. “Yeah,” I said. “I think they’re wondering if you’re all real. One person even thought you might just be characters I made up.” “Made up!?” Colin exclaimed. “Honey, you’re not that creative.” |
“Thanks,” I said, nearly dropping
the phone. I sipped from my cocoamochafrappalattechino, or, as I
liked to
call it, hot chocolate, careful not to spill any on my freshly pressed
slacks
or my ever-so-tasteful linen summer shirt. It was finally warm in
Michigan,
or at least, warmer, and I could be free of winter garb. “Surely they must have read that article where you were daydreaming about Daniel,” Colin continued, oblivious to his previous comment. I heard a hint of jealousy in his voice. “I mean, you did get his description down cold. Why Daniel, by the way?” I felt myself sigh involuntarily. Colin never varied much from himself, which made him popular in some circles, but tiresome in mine. In my mind’s eye, I saw him sprawled back in a chair, a loud print shirt with light slacks and sandals, his curly dark locks held in check by his sunglasses pushed back on his head. His dark chocolate eyes would sparkle as he watched the activity in whatever room they were calling from, like the spider looking for his next fly. “So what’s our next topic?” I asked, ignoring Colin’s question. It was this thing we did, circling the topic while ignoring each other. I suppose it was some kind of a game, but I never paid that much attention. Really. “Next topic?” Colin asked. “For the Factoid? You know, what common thing are you going to prove was secretly invented or made cooler by homosexuals?” “I dunno,” he said. I could feel his attention wander, even thousands of miles away. “Isn’t that usually Daniel’s thing?” I shook my head, a pointless gesture from my seat at Starbucks. “Where is Daniel?” I asked, suddenly aware that he had not joined the conversation. “He went hiking with some guy,” Matt said. “I think his name was Omar, or something. He said they were going to ascend to some ancient temple where people thought they could, like, attain a higher plane of existence or something.” “What?” I asked. “What kind of crap is that? You let him go?” “It’s not our job to tell him how to spend his vacation,” Deirdre defended. “I mean, this is Rome. What could possibly happen?” The Fairy Factoid is extensively researched and painstakingly presented by Andrew Barriger, author of Finding Faith and the upcoming sequel, Finding Peace. Neither the author nor the editor is responsible for any factual errors that may be contained herein, especially when facts are not in evidence. |