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





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