The One Spinner: Part Three

Tuesday, August 8th, 2006
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This is Part Three of The One Spinner Choose Your Own Adventure series. Read Part One and Part Two if you haven’t yet.

DEATH.

HUNGER.

LACE.

The wobbly, tomato-soaked letters in my Alphaghetti taunt me with their accidental arrangements. We don’t want to start a fire for fear of attracting attention, so we’re eating the soup cold. I slurp down the artificially-thickened, artificially-sweetened mixture. I smush the pasta with my tongue. No need to chew it; I haven’t used my teeth on anything but tree bark and mushrooms for the past three weeks. I stare into the bottom of the bowl and my eyes refocus out of boredom. I stir my soup, absently.

WASHINGFON.

That one doesn’t count.

You smack your lips in disgust and groan. “Why didn’t we pack something other than Alphaghetti? I feel like I’m sweating tomato sauce.”

“That’s because you bathed in a can of it earlier. I tried to stop you.”

“Did I? So that’s why that fox was licking me.”

“That wasn’t a fox. That was Patrick Duffy.”

“So that’s what he’s been doing lately.”

We finally returned to the little farmhouse two weeks ago. It was burned to the ground. We found our knitting, but the family was long gone. We saw tire-tracks leading to the highway. The highway lead south. We followed it. We crossed over the Canada-US border last night.

“Do you think Zemira and Barnabas got out okay?” you ask as we push once more through the brush.

“That depends on your definition of ‘okay,’” I reply. You stick your thumb in the air, hopefully.

“Then God help them,” I growl, solemnly.

“The end is near! BRAAWWK! The end is near!”

We look puzzled at each other.

“BRAAWK! The end is near!”

A man clothed in bright feathers and a fibreglass beak traipses out from a stand of trees. He has an American flag pinned to his chest and a small microphone hanging from his collar.

“The end is near! BRAWWK! Support our troops! With us or against us! BRAWK!”

“Did we just step into The Magic Flute?” you ask.

“I think that’s Bob Woodruff.” I reply with amusement.

“Hezbollah! Hezbollah! BRAAWK! Avian flu! Shock and Awe! BRAAAAWWK!”

A stocky bald man emerges from behind him, talking on a cell phone. “Tell Bill: ‘Pearl-McPhee is fair game.” His eyes bulge as he sees us and he slaps the clamshell shut. He scurries up a tree and swings away through the branches.

“Hey!” I chase after him for a few steps and give up when I can’t see him anymore. He said the Yarn Harlot was fair game. But why? It’s not Knitter Season for another month.

“Katarina! BRAAWK! The end is near! BRAAWK!”

My heart skips. Did he just say ‘Katarina?’

“This is getting really irritating,” you say. “We’re not going to have to take this guy with us, are we?”

“Of course.” I must have written him into the story for some reason. I think it may have been the mushrooms I ate earlier.

Geez, don’t look so shocked.

“Can you at least not have him squawk like that all the time?”

“But he’s a parrot!”

“Not a parrot,” he suddenly interjects. “As well as being a well-known member of the media, I’m a secret agent. I’ve been sent to find you and bring you to Washington in my space ship. Also, I’m very suave and handsome underneath all these feathers, so you should probably decide now which one of you is going to fall in love with me. Are you both straight?”

“I’m of ambiguous gender and sexual orientation,” you say.

“Kinky,” he smiles.

Now it’s your turn. What do you do? Do you continue to Washington in the arms of this befeathered media presenter? Or do you pour yourself another can of Alphaghetti?

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1 Comment to “The One Spinner: Part Three”

  1. Let’s continue. Why put it off any longer with tomato sauce on our chins? Aaahhh, why are we going to Washington? Oh ya, take the needle out of my ear… now I remember.

    Comment by
    Stitchingnut
    August 8, 2006 @ 11:26 am

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