Sitting on the park bench on a particularly blustery afternoon, Jacob began pondering the incredible complexities of life. Hot damn!, he thought to himself. If I had some springs, I could attach them to this tiny log and use it to jump to the top of that tree! Hmmm...now where could I find some springs?
Just then, Jacob remembered his friend Tom always had a steady supply of springs locked in his bedroom closet - you never know when those will come in handy. He and Tom were the best of friends for many years. They even had a special secret language so outside observers would never overhear what they were really talking about. The odd part was, coding their language was unnecessary, as they never spoke out loud. They always communicated through text. They had a falling out a while back because Jacob got sick of Tom constantly bombarding him with forwarded chain texts and overusing the phrase "OMG." Jacob wasn't eager to re-open that can of worms, but he was desperate. He'd recently lost his job, so he couldn't afford to buy springs. And he couldn't go without the springs because there was little else to occupy the unemployed in his town. So, he did what he had to do.
Jacob did a few quick finger exercises to get his fingers limber, then sent a quick text to Tom that read "Yo babe, what's up?" (in their language, this meant "Hey, I need some springs.") As Tom kept him waiting several minutes for a reply, Jacob's palms were perspiring with anticipation. After an agonizing delay, Jacob was delighted to see the tiny envelope icon pop up on his cell phone screen, indicating he had a new text message. But the message was far from what Jacob expected.
"Who is this?" it read. This really had Jacob upset and confused because "Who is this?" in their secret language meant "How many leaves of lettuce are in a head?"
"Uh...this is Jacob..." he messaged back, but he was kicking himself as he sent this because in their language he was really saying "I just wet myself." "Forget our secret language, ok?" he messaged again. "I'm going to just give it to you straight."
When Jacob received a message back that read "Huh? What? Who are you?" he was starting to think he wasn't dealing with Tom. He decided to do a test. "Beets breed brilliance," he said.
"Excuse me?" the messenger responded.
Since the messenger didn't reply with "brilliance beats bandages," Jacob realized he was text messaging with a stranger.
"Wow, I'm sorry, I guess my friend changed his number," Jacob frenziedly frittered on his phone keys to the mystery messenger.
"No prob," said the messenger.
Jacob had become somewhat of a recluse and didn't have many friends these days...or any friends, really. So, he decided to milk this chance for social interaction for all it was worth.
"So, what's your name?" he asked.
"Meh," the messenger responded.
Ok, doesn't want to dance with me...Jacob thought, shrugging his shoulders and exhaling so deeply it sounded as if he were passing a pot roast through his lungs.
But then another message quickly followed: "It's short for Mehmuda.""It's a girl! It's a girl!!!" he shouted on the rooftops (not while actually standing on the rooftops, just loud enough that the people sleeping on the rooftops nearby were smacked in the face with his words). Suddenly as he passed a group of bystanders, he heard a cacophony of congratulatory exclamations and unfamiliar phrases like "What a proud papa!" "Aww, so young to be a daddy, but so cute!" Oh crap, he thought to himself, I said that out loud.
His cheeks turning a bizarre shade of red, Jacob picked up speed and jetted out of the park. Well, that was awkward...
Just as Jacob uttered that thought, he met butt-to-bumper with an oncoming delivery truck.
Mehmuda, sitting on her back porch swing watching the clouds roll by, grew anxious as several minutes passed without a response from Jacob. "Does he have something against ethnic women? Maybe I sound too desperate? Sheesh."
Meanwhile, Jacob forces himself up off the ground after regaining some feeling in his limbs and struggles across the road. Of course, it wasn't an actual road, just one of those paths they refer to as roads at the park to make it seem more like a tiny city within the city. Anyway, the delivery truck disappeared before Jacob had the chance to identify his offender.
Though his body endured some bruises, Jacob's mind remained unscathed, and his first order of business was to respond to Mehmuda's text. The only problem was, Where was his phone? Somehow, when that giant beast of solid steel jabbed him in the rear end, he'd lost track of it. Not one to stay committed to a cause for too long, Jacob shrugged his shoulders and sighed, "Oh well."
So, there was poor Mehmuda, perplexed and yearning for closure on this bizarre situation. As a fifteen-year-old girl, she was used to rejection by now and understood the cruel depths of heartbreak. Usually, though, boys had the decency to dump her in person, or in a hand-written letter or email...or, in the case of Jeremy Benjamin, by sending a message in a bottle downriver with a carrier pigeon to serve as a parting gift. Of course, the difference with the other boys was that she'd known them for more than 27 minutes and had actually met them in person. For all Mehmuda knew, she could have been texting with an 8-year-old girl who was just having some fun. Or perhaps a squirrel with very nimble fingers and an impressive grasp of the English language. "Oh gosh!" she exclaimed to herself, "I've been conversing with a squirrel!"
Just then, a squirrel happened upon Jacob's abandoned phone at the park. It just so happens this squirrel had very nimble fingers and an impressive grasp of the English language.
"Hey," he texted Mehmuda.
Simultaneously overjoyed and astonished, Mehmuda attempted to pull herself together enough to send a response. She was relieved that the curse on her romantic life seemed to have been lifted.
"What happened to you?" she replied.
The squirrel paused a moment, scratched his head and furrowed his brow. "Uh, nothing happened. How are you?"
"I'm fine...I thought you had forgotten me," Mehmuda said.
"Nope," said the squirrel. Even with no idea of what was going on in this conversation, he knew that was a safe answer.
"So, what are you up to today?" Mehmuda texted back, comforted by the knowledge that text messages are incapable of conveying eagerness or despair.
"Not much," said the squirrel. "Wanna hang out?"
"But I don't even know you!" Mehmuda replied as she silently screamed "YES YES YES!"
"Ok, great. I live near the park by the old oak tree," the squirrel said. "Do you know it?"
"Know it? Oh, I'm there all the time!" Mehmuda was lying through text. This was a new low.
"Wow, cool! Meet me there in 20 minutes?" the squirrel wrote back.
"See you soon!!" wrote Mehmuda.
The squirrel hopped threw on his rodent-sized helmet, hopped on his mini motor scooter and chased his romantic destiny. All was going well, the wind blowing through his tail, acorns fortuitously landing into his sidecar as he whirred through the park. He happened upon the oldest, tallest oak tree in the park and stopped to set up shop. Literally, he set up shop - he had recently started a lemonade business. It started out as a way for him to raise money to go visit his sister in Poughkeepsie, but it proved such a lucrative endeavor during the past few sweltering summer months that he had to let the cash cow ride on. After $2.75 worth of sales - about 20 minutes' time - the squirrel noticed a striking young woman with olive complexion and onyx colored hair. She seemed to be carefully examining each tree she passed and muttering something to herself.
Ok, now which one of these is the old oak tree? This one looks pretty old, she thought, gesturing at a nearby, slightly decrepit birch tree, but it doesn't seem very oak-like. Mehmuda wasn't much of a nature enthusiast. She spent most of her life in overcrowded urban environments, with nary a forest or park in sight. So, one couldn't blame her for not being able to distinguish an oak tree from any other kind.
Despite her disadvantage, Mehmuda pressed on. Eventually, she did find the very tree the squirrel was referring to. She ended up side by side with the furry entrepreneurial creature. She didn't notice because of the significant difference in their heights, but the squirrel stared at Mehmuda for a good 37 minutes. With no sign of her mystery guy, Mehmuda began tapping her foot in anxiety. Little did she know, her Prince Charming was right beside her peddling cold refreshments.
The squirrel, not well-versed in the standard code of conduct for human dating, grew impatient for Mehmuda to come to her senses and recognize him. With the fury of a dozen Ginsu knives plunging into a wooden fence, he lept onto Mehmuda and let out a high-pitched shriek of angst. In the seconds he took to fly through the air to Mehmuda, he yelped "Notice me!!! Have I not a heart that bleeds?!!" Of course, Mehmuda didn't understand the complexity of the situation and simply thought she was being attacked by a rabid wild animal.
Just when she thought she'd met her demise, Mehmuda's true knight in shining armor came to her rescue. A few feet away, Jacob was casually strolling along, attempting to conquer a mound of cotton candy. With bits of sugar and pink food coloring outlining his mouth, he gasped at the sight of the attack, dropped his cotton candy and jumped in to fight the ferocious predator. With a strength he had no idea he possessed, Jacob ripped the squirrel from the damsel's shoulder and flung it into a nearby pond.
Lying listless on the ground, struggling to catch her breath, Mehmuda jumped up and put her arms around Jacob. "You saved my life!" she exclaimed.
"It was no big deal," Jacob said.
"No, really, it was," Mehmuda gushed. "Do you want to grab a cup of coffee or something?"
"Sure," Jacob replied, trying to conceal a grin."So, what's your name?" she asked.
"Jacob. What's yours?" he replied.
"Meh," she said.
Jacob tilted his head back, shrugged his shoulders, and let out the heaviest sigh he would release in his lifetime.
About Me
- Rachel Kingstrom
- I am an aspiring writer currently living in the metropolitan Detroit area. I have ten years of experience in writing for newspapers, online publications, and newsletters. I have taken sketch comedy writing classes at Second City and am currently taking improv classes at Go Comedy! Improv Theater. I am also a proofreader, editor, and I provide assistance in resume writing and design.
