Picking up the magician's top hat from off the
table, I tossed it to the floor. Then balancing the hat with my
foot, I tried to flip it up onto my head, the way that Max Vi
had – close, but no cigar. The hat’s brim ricocheted
off my head into my spice rack. The oregano crashed to the
counter, spilling everywhere.
"Maybe I’d be more coordinated after
my coffee," I thought. As I began to wipe up the mess, I
couldn't help but notice something odd. The spice jar had
tumbled onto an open magazine, landing face down on a Coors beer
ad. The ad that used to read "Coors is the one" now
appeared to read "You're the one." Exhaling a
quick breath, I chuckled sort of nervously as that icy chill
rushed up my spine.
Just a coincidence, my imagination was
probably just getting the best of me. I looked at it again, more
closely. The words didn’t actually look like, "You’re
the one." They really looked more like "Coor’re
is the one." And I practically had to squint to make it say
that – yeah, my overactive imagination again. That’s
all. Even though I had rationalized the incident away, still
seeing the words written made me a little uneasy. I couldn’t
help thinking about what Max had said. Me? The one? Right.
Oh my God, maybe the one who was going to be
late for work! I hadn't noticed how much time I’d spent
messing around with all of the stuff. I was no more "the
one" than Max was a CPA – whatever "the
one" was supposed to be. And this "one" had
to get to work pronto.
I rushed though the morning traffic, still, I
arrived to work five minutes late. It was the wrong Monday to
show up late. Mr. Braeback, the office manager, had already
moved everyone into the conference room for a surprise reprimand
concerning the art of vanishing paper clips, disappearing
pencils, and evaporating staplers. I considered just skipping
the meeting altogether and stealthily making my way to my office
cubicle. However, fear, as well as guilt, forced me to choose
the more honorable course of action. I opted to slip into the
meeting late, attempting to go unnoticed.
I thought that I had it made, opening the back
door just enough to squeeze through and into the meeting without
catching old "Back-breaker's" attention. But before he
finished his less than clever repartee, he looked straight at me
and snarled, "James, I would appreciate a little more
effort towards timeliness on your part."
