The Adventures of Macaroni McSpoon
by Scott Hefflon
Somewhere, something was happening.
That may not seem to be the most profound statement in recorded history, but at least it’s true. People take for granted that things are always happening. Just because nothing is happening around them, they assume that somewhere else in the world, something must be happening. It’s a common belief. Unfortunately, it’s just not true.
There have been numerous times throughout history that, even for the briefest of moments, nothing was happening anywhere. Or everywhere, for that matter. These brief lapses in the continuance of all things have never been recorded or commented upon because, evidently, no one thought it noteworthy. There would be, however, a surprising number of cases of nothing happening if anyone cared to keep track of all the times nothing occurred around them and then compared notes with other tedious and thoroughly bored individuals with the same hobby.
This moment was not one of these moments where nothing was happening.
Something was happening. It wasn’t happening in the room where Mac sat. Or in the house that Jack built, but that will come later. Mac stiffened as he felt something happen. He smiled.
He got to his feet with painful, joint-popping suddenness. He had been sitting on the edge of the couch for half an hour, waiting for something to happen. Now it was, and he was off to be a part of it. He grabbed his coat and hat from the couch and was about to depart when a thought struck him.
It was one of those thoughts that seem to come out of nowhere. But everything must come from somewhere. Mac guessed this thought originated from somewhere in Colorado. This thought was not in the best of moods. It had been traveling tirelessly, all the way from Colorado, with the express purpose of striking Mac at this exact instant in time. It had developed quite an attitude. It struck Mac with a vengeance. Mac staggered. The world swam, and so did Mac. He did the doggy paddle. He’d never been very advanced in proper swimming techniques.
He toppled over and landed on the couch. The world stopped swimming, and luckily, there was little to no noticeable water damage. Mac sat on the couch and thought of the thought he’d just thought. He couldn’t remember sitting on this couch before. He couldn’t remember ever seeing this couch before.
Hmmm. He filed that thought away, grabbed his coat and hat from the mysterious couch, and left.
