The Thinner Line

December 21, 2010:

My name is Rod Earl Meara, and some strange things have been happening to me lately. Maybe all the drinking I did in college has finally hit my memory, but wouldn’t I not be able to tell if it was? In any case, today I was going about my daily routine – a grande, sugar-free vanilla latte from Cindy at the local anti-Starbucks, when the letters on my New York Times “jumped” off the page and ran out the door. I was so startled by this, that I squeezed my scalding hot latte, and winced at the pain. I opened my eyes, and there wasn’t any stain, or pain for that matter. I am sitting now at The Insomniax Café, writing this all down, before I forget it.

December 22, 2010:

Today at work I stopped typing amidst a disturbing thought. It struck me that the entire morning had gone by, and not one of my colleagues had come into my office. Weirder still, when I walked past Barb’s desk (my receptionist,) her blue New York Giants umbrella rolled off the desk and after me. It was like a movie where the person being followed turns around and the follower stops moving, but is somehow closer than it was before. I screamed out for somebody to come quick, but music came out of my mouth, “Death of a Martian” by the Red Hot Chili Peppers. After that time kind of slowed down, every step I took towards the door to my building seemed to take a year. Finally before I could get to the door, my foot caught in a pothole, and I passed out from the pain.

December 23, 2010:

I am spent the night at work; everyone else is gone for Christmas and my penthouse felt cold despite the thermostat setting of 70º. Instead of driving, I decided to fly back in. I mean why waste my money on gas anymore if I could just spread my arms apart and fly like Superman? Plus cars are dangerous. I am thinking about flying to a beach somewhere, it would nice to be warm for Christmas, and also cool to show off my new method of getting around.

December 24, 2010:

Flying south was interesting, believe it or not I saw Santa Claus, he said I shouldn’t bet on the Giants making the Super Bowl this year. The guy was friggin’ skinny! Mrs. Claus must have him on a no-carb diet or he got a stomach-staple. I can’t remember what he said when I asked. Costa Rica is warm, but I didn’t know they spoke Chinese here. Well it sounds like Chinese, I’m not sure. They all look the same too, how can you meet any new friends when there are no surface details to set them apart and make them approachable?

December 25, 2010:

The Christmas trees on the beach are all lit up, and the snow is falling steadily. I spent just last few minutes staring at the ocean. I have decided to push this flight thing to the limit and see if I can find some people elsewhere. Maybe a different planet? Or maybe I’ll just keep flying until there’s nowhere else to go. I took a last good look at the snow-capped mountain that rose from the waves, our planet was so cool but there could be cooler ones out there. I’ll write again once I get to Pluto.

The Montclair Times Reported on December 26, 2010:

Montclair Native, Wall St. Executive, Rod Earl Meara Dies After 5-day Coma

After sustaining serious injuries in a car accident on December 21, 2010, Mr. Meara slipped into a coma that night. Mr. Meara apparently was attempting to complete the New York Times crossword puzzle in his vehicle, when, onlookers say, he swerved to avoid a large pothole. Mr. Meara lost control of the car and he struck a pedestrian (Ms. Margaret Chu) before crashing into Downtown Music and Variety. Ms. Chu is in critical condition, but doctor’s predict that she will pull through. Mr. Meara was unmarried, and died at the age of 42.

December 28, 2010:

WOW! What a flight!