Opening Scenes to Books I will Never Write – Chapter 5: Guess what day it is…

October 2, 2015

Joe woke up early – real early. He knew it was real early because the sun had not yet made its daily slither up over the horizon to cast its wakening brightness over his part of the rock most people called ‘Earth’. So he was quite certain that it was real early.
Or… was it late?
He thought to himself, “In this context, there are actually two forms of ‘late’. Either it’s late at night and, therefore, too early to get up out of bed; or it’s late in the morning and too late to still be in bed.
He thought about that and decided that if it was late rather than real early, ‘late’ option number one had to apply because that form of ‘late’ is, in terms of brightness after-all, evidenced by the same lack of sunlight as ‘real early’ whereas ‘late’ option number two would surely render even more sunlight than ‘middle early’, which was sort of a combination of ‘real early’ and ‘late early’.
(The difference between ‘late’ and ‘real early’ is that ‘late’ comes before ‘real early’ and lasts longer. A lot longer.)
So it could either be late or it could be real early. It didn’t really matter to Joe – he just knew that it was dark out and way too soon to get up.
And it was in that uncertain fog of confusion that he muttered to himself, “What day is it? Oh yeah – it’s Saturday…”.
To Joe (and a thousand other guys like him), every day was Saturday. Oh, it could be Sunday, but most days – six out of seven – it was Saturday. The important thing was that there were never any Mondays.
Joe vaguely remembered Mondays. It had been long enough since he actually had a Monday that he had almost forgotten how ‘Monday’ a Monday could be.
Some Mondays could be extremely ‘Monday’, while others (not many) tended to be less so and he was grateful that he (in his life of Saturdays and Sundays) was losing recollection of the more “Monday’ Mondays. Very grateful indeed…
But Joe lived with one deeply buried, irrational worry…
Every day is Saturday or Sunday until somebody gets hurt. Then every day is Monday… And that’s a terrible way to spend your life…
But right now it was too early to think about that…

 

Or was it too late?…

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