>>One Month Later<<
Journal,
John F Kennedy was shot and killed in Texas on November 22nd 1963
Dien Bien Phu falls and the French pull out of Vietnam leaving the battle to the United States of America.
The Watergate scandal is uncovered and Richard Nixon resigns from presidency.
The American public finds out William Clinton lied about getting head in the oval office.
The above are all bad things that have happened in history. All things that could never be seen in a good light, only mourned because they had occurred and had no production to be made from. Today another one of those dramatic historical outtakes occurred. I got a monster-sized zit on the upper right side of my nose that no amount of makeup can conceal and no amount of facial scrub can deflate. You might think I’m being a little over dramatic about this but like every other historical bump in the road there is a catch.
Joey called.
Yes, he called and he wants me to go pick up some junk I had left behind long ago. After a month, he has the nerve to call me and tell me I left behind stuff that needs to be picked up or he was going to throw it out. Why didn’t he just throw it out? Why had he bothered to call and go threw all the hassle he knew was coming his way once I stepped foot inside his home? These had better be some pretty good mementos I left behind for him to call me up and request my presence at a place I had been long ago banished from.
The zit plays a major role in me going over there. Right now I have three options I can pick from, they are as followed-
A. Disregard the zit and just go, after all who cares?
2. Don’t go and sit at home while pondering what could have been. Maybe he wanted me back and the “come get your shit” line he had used early had a secret meaning. Maybe it ment he wanted to get married and move to Fiji in secret. Or maybe not, maybe he didn’t want to be bothered by it anymore, maybe he needed the extra closet space that it was taking up. If I don’t go I will never know what could have been.
And finally we embark on the journey known as option X. Option X is always the killer. Option X consists of popping the rude non-invited intruder on my nose. Screw Shakespeare’s be’s and no be’s, the real question of my youth is to pop or not to pop.
decisions, decisions
Calista
