It was the bowling ball that caught my attention. There it was nestled in amidst a large pile of boxes, suitcases, a lamp, and a jumble of other items that appeared to be pulled from our attic, or basement, possibly both. The pile was sitting in the foyer near the front door.
I picked up the bowling ball, examined it and tried to remember when was the last time I used it. It may have been during the Reagan administration, or maybe it was during the Clinton presidency.
The crowd was clustered together in a tight circle near the entrance of the building. There was yelling and pointing, and it looked like the old days of Three Card Monte games on a sidewalk.
Except it wasn’t the old days. It was pandemic days, and I was on my way into work and wondering what all the commotion was about.
I slowed as I got closer and heard voices, muffled through face masks but plenty clear enough to understand.
It was a quiet morning and I was enjoying the luxury of being able to head into work a bit later than usual. I was in the kitchen having a cup of coffee and mindlessly scrolling news websites to see if I had missed anything in the last forty seconds or so when Terri darted into the room.
“I need to grab a quick snack, just something to tide me over until lunch,” she said, yanking open the refrigerator door.
I was busy staring at the menu for the cafe around the corner trying to find the brown rice option for my lunch order when Wilson walked into the office. Or at least I thought it was Wilson.
He came in, stepped over the cables of the Tornadex, and sat down across the desk from me. I adjusted my face mask and looked him over, not quite sure if I was seeing what I was seeing.
“Honey, I think there’s something we need to discuss,” Terri said, coming into the living room.
It had been my experience that such a statement usually indicated the end of my relaxed weekend state, so I swung my feet around and sat up on the couch in an effort to at least appear alert.
“I don’t think our robot likes the name you gave it,” she said, sitting down across from me. “I think it finds it demeaning.”
The trouble started as soon as we walked in the door of Big Ronald’s. There was something different, strange even, about the burger joint.
I looked at Wilson. It was his idea to walk over to the fast-food place for lunch. Big Ronald’s had never been a favorite of mine, but I had let Wilson convince me. That usually was the first step in creating a disaster.