The Eighth Day

It is written that, "By the seventh day God completed His work which He had done, and He rested on the seventh day from all His work which He had done."

This much, I believe is true.

But, the story as it exists in writing is incomplete. For there is a part of the story that exists only by word of mouth. At least, until now . . .

For generations, in every culture in every part of the world, the elders have passed on to the youth "The Story of the Eighth Day." It is told as follows:

On the eighth day, God slept in. He felt He had earned it, since He had been working for seven straight days without rest. When God arose in the latter part of the morning He found Himself desirous of sustenance. After sampling a morsel of each of His many creations, God found them lacking in both taste and nutritional value. This made Him sad. God contemplated destroying His greatest creation, but decided against it. For, overall, it was pretty good. Not good, just pretty good.

Then, He had an epiphany. In the eleventh minute of the eleventh hour of the eighth day, God cleared his throat and said, "Let there be Wheaties. Let it be a simple comestible, to be consumed only with the milk of a cow. Let it be endorsed by only those that are capable of great feats of athletic achievement. And,* most importantly, let it be both good and good for you."

God looked at his newest and final creation. Using only a spoon, He sampled these Wheaties. Then, He smiled, for it was good.


*Editor's Note: God is allowed to start His sentences with And. He just is.

Conundrum!

It's happened to all of us . . . you're laying in bed. It's Saturday morning. You're not asleep. You're not awake. You're justifying staying in bed.

Then, it happens.

"Bu-dong!"

You know that noise. Of course you know that noise. It runs your life. It's the progeny of AOL's "You've Got Mail!"

Most importantly, it's a sign.

Not a sign to get out of bed. Well, maybe. But it's more a sign that something has happened in the electric world and you'll be damned if you don't find out what it is.

So you check your email. It's from facebook. "[Random girl] wants to be your friend," the email tells you. You rub your bloodshot eyes, shake out your hangover, and think, "I'm not sure I've ever met [Random girl]."

Now, chances are, you haven't. "But," you think, as any logical man would, "it's possible I just don't remember meeting her!"

So you check her facebook profile. Nothing too frightening there, except that she likes Grey's Anatomy. That can be overlooked. But that photo! Which one is [Random girl]?

Conundrum. You don't want some scud as your friend on facebook. Then again, that other girl is pretty cute . . .

So, you accept [Random girl]'s offer of friendship.

As it turns out, [Random girl] was the scud. And now you're stuck with her. Once again proving why you shouldn't talk to strangers.

THIS PUBLIC SERVICE ANNOUNCEMENT WAS BROUGHT TO YOU BY TASERS. KEEPING STRANGERS OUT OF YOUR LIFE SINCE 1974.