The Room (short story)
The room is loud. There are many people;
all ages, all colors, all of them
talking.
The loud room hums like a
spaceship. That's a simile. The roomship
hums as its large engines churn out massive
power. That's a metaphor.
But I am here now. I am in the
room. This room is lucky; for I am here
to save the room. All I need is a pen, and a
microphone. And look, I have both. What
a wonderful and lucky room this is.
I take the pen and I write a
poem. It's my poem to save the room. I
like it. It's good. I offer it to the room. Nobody
wants to read my poem.
So I take the pen and I write a
song. It's my song to save the room. I
like it. It's good. I offer it to the room. Nobody
wants to hear my song.
So I grab the microphone and
scream "Wake up! Don't you dum-dums know
that I'm trying to save you?" Then
somebody unplugs my microphone.
Somehow, somewhere, this has to
be funny. Really. Check it out: this guy
comes all this way -- to save this room
-- and the room doesn't want to be
saved. I'm sure glad that this is all in my head and
that real life isn't like this at
all.
©1999 WetSpot Poetry
Back to Homepage