Wilbur by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

#1- Wilbur- The Day After

He was in his room with his friends just like always; all the “always” he was able to remember, anyhow. In this particular morning segment of “Always” the host was up prior to his fifty-eight buddies. He must have been jarred awake by the thunder and lightning outside. Inside, a driving rain pelted through the partially open window. His instinct to be scared was placated through seeing that he was still surrounded by all of his little friends.

Actually, some of them might have been a bit larger than him. But, they all were more or less equal in stature and that was his main consideration. Any possible “conclusive”

determination of the differentiating and ultimately uninteresting minutiae was the job for someone with some sort of likely to be improperly calibrated instrument which in an arrogance endemic to flashy technology, pretended to be capable of accurately measuring shapes, while an absolute zero on the irregular varieties.

In that flashy regard, as in-a-pan, “state-of-the-art,”

battery-powered lasers proved to have had some deficiencies in comparison to what remained of the “archaic,” frayed, and stretch prone cloth rulers. But, their speed and instantaneous

Wilbur

Page 2

readout in bold red squares, utilizing omissions here and there in an attempt to resemble numbers, rounded to a tenth of a percent was just so “cool,” one would not dare approach Kardashian “art” without a few apps and gadgets.

Just like that which resulted from the wonders displayed by a digital electronic clock, it apparently had become gauche to question their abilities to go around the corners. The necessitated deferences to modern mass commerciality and style served to dictate the short run altering of natural style in the worthy and compelling social pursuit of being liked and making a living. Bolstered by the growing, addictive force of “social media” it became both an irresistible force and an un-movable object; Derrida and Foucalt considerations consistent, but the subject of a long-winded PhD thesis not even read by the lit professor. “Unity” was finally achieved ...... by and for the well-skimmed “progressives.” All politically “correct” people were equally not paying any attention to anything other than their bumper sticker dogma and what they had written on their blog, which boasted 2,308 friends and 118 “likes,” indicative of a new budding star. But, oddly this dynamic also served to heighten the desirability of Doonesbury’s Walden Puddle in the long run, as diving still posed some immediate risks.

It didn’t ring any of his bells, but if Quasimodo needed to yank on the cords to get attention, it really had zero effect on

Wilbur

Page 3

his life, and consequently he could care even less than a plasticized “precise-to-one-decimal-place,” red beamer at the insoluble crossroads of rarely accurate calibration and a blind inability to measure anything not perfectly straight.

Rather, it was the unpredictable actions and crashes coming from the sky which as always, had gotten the bird brain’s attention. The thunder tried to imitate the surround-sound-reverberating-echo of a lion laying claim to his territory, successful at obliterating the work of the best of d-jays, Dr.

Dre’s, and blue jays. The flashing intermittent lightning looked and sounded as if it had struck nearby; of possible consequence to those sufficiently reckless or imprudent to remain in an unprotected field during that inclement sort of weather, as well as those dependent upon the uninterrupted, frying flow of electricity.

He was all right .............. for the most part. He was with his friends, and as long as that driving rain did not pick up a “convenient,” northern gust it would not reach his wooden body. Sometimes Wilbur worried that the rain might catch up to him as drops of water allowed to sit and dry out on wood does the wood no good; causing discoloration at the least and rot at the worst. The majority of the time he thought; “Since it never has previously done so, the odds are strongly in my favor that it never will. I’m okay ..... more or less.”

Wilbur

Page 4

AND THERE WAS THE HI-DEF

HUMONGOUS 4096KB 4DS SCREEN FOR

A MAXIMUM FOUR SCREEN VISUAL

EXPERIENCE ENHANCED WITH A BUILT

IN 2048KB BLASTER CARD SOUND

WHICH JOELLE VAN DYNE WOULD HAVE

ENJOYED PLAYING WITH. OR NOT.

Wilbur

Page 5