Dear Editor,

This is the first time I’ve ever written a “letter to the editor.” Though I must confess I’m not a subscriber to your newspaper, I have been known to peruse its contents at the library. I am a big fan of the in-depth coverage you provide of the Saturday night races at our local “speedway.” And ever since my social media accounts were suspended (for various unfounded reasons too trivial to mention), your “police blotter” provides a means for me to keep up with the various goings-on of my friends, coworkers, and former classmates.

Can I get everyone’s attention?

My name is Terry Clemette, and I am your Operations Sections Chief. It’s a big group, please get in close. Closer, please. We have a lot of material to cover.

The only thing to have survived the apocalypse is a recording of All Star by Smash Mouth. And language and grammar, because the man transcribing my story couldn’t be bothered to think of new grammatical and linguistic rules for a story he isn’t interested in. I imagine he listened to All Star and figured out the old ones or something. It upset me to hear he wasn’t interested in my story, because I think it’s quite good.

We are settled on our chairs, laptops atop laps, mugs of tea in hand, ready to hear the first short story when the buzzer buzzes. “Hang on. I thought we were all here,” says Darlene. We have our meetings in a small living room on the fourth floor of a downtown apartment building. We are only five, so we don’t need much space. “Someone named Jillian. Says you invited her,” she looks at me. “Sounds quite bossy.”

They say the camera adds ten or even fifteen pounds. Maybe that’s why Harvey didn’t notice the dragon was quite so big until the darn thing actually ate him.