Freedom!

Last Friday afternoon at precisely 12:30 I put the finishing touches on a big project at work. I stuffed it all into a box, I walked the box down to the local FedEx office, I placed the box on the counter and I said, “Here! You take it!” Then I strolled outside, flung my arms up to the sky, lifted my eyes to the heavens, and announced to the world, “I’m done! I’m done!” From across the street the bells began pealing from the Trinity Church tower, passersby stopped in wonder at the look of beatitude and calm on my radiant countenance, some four and twenty pigeons flew a circular formation above my head with martini olives on toothpicks clenched in their little beaks, the U.S. 35th Fighter Squadron passed overhead in an impressive display of aerobatics, and Queen Elizabeth rolled past me in a motorcade exclaiming, “Well done, Sir Schprock! Smashing!”

I snapped out of it right after Kermit the Frog told me to keep the hell away from Miss Piggy. I never even had a chance to come back with, “Yeah? You tell her to stay the hell away from me!”

Well, the part about my project being finished was real. I then went on to have a very eventful weekend — or eventful for my meek existence anyway. Daughter Number 2 gave me a nice card and a package of Depends for Father’s Day, which I thought was very sweet and will certainly remember when I make out my last will and testament, and Saturday I rode my bike 130 miles from Boston to Provincetown, which was just a trifle long and a wee bit tiring. And that ride will be the subject of the next episode of The Schprock Report, entitled “Chariots of Dire” or “I’ve Got a Schprocket in My Pocket!”

Or something equally as bad. Tune in, won’t you?