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OPINION: Some Balloons Passed Really Close by My Face
OPINION
I was sitting there. It was at a table in the basement. There was a plastic tablecloth. There was a bowl of chips but it was far away.
And then some balloons passed really close by my face.
I lurched backwards. I looked to my left and then to my right. Nothing. I moved back to the table.
I looked at the chips. I wanted some.
And then some balloons passed really close by my face.
I yelled out. There was a hallway that led upstairs. I heard a little noise there but then nothing. A light in the ceiling fixture buzzed and then flamed out. It grew darker.
And then some balloons passed really close by my face.
The door to the hallway suddenly closed. The chips were suddenly closer. There was that. I moved my eyes far to the left.
I am waiting.
The opinions of this man are not necessarily the opinions of the Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.
OPINION: I’m the Kind of Guy You Meet in a Stuffy Attic
You head upstairs to the attic in search of some wrapping paper or maybe your favorite pair of summer swim trunks. “It’s a little stuffy up here,” you think. “I should open a window.” You make your way through the half-darkness, stumbling over an old stereo receiver or a box of comic books. Finally, you arrive at the window and throw it open. “Some air,” you think. “That’ll get things circulating.” Then, you turn back.
AND THERE I AM, MAN.
Because, I’m the kind of guy you meet in a stuffy attic.
Your mind races. How did he get in here? Did I leave a door open while I was outside raking up all those old pumpkins? Did he climb up here? Is that even possible?
Fact is, all that’s irrelevant.
Because I’m the kind of guy you meet in a stuffy attic. Just is, man.
“What…do you want?” you say. I emerge from beneath the old roof beams. I don’t say much. There’s not much to be said. Thousands of years of civilization have passed to achieve this moment. Deep down, we both know this. We both know our assigned purposes. I need not even know yours. But I know mine.
I’m the kind of guy you meet in a stuffy attic.
Then, I turn and make my way down the stairs.
The opinions of Zach Keebaugh are not necessarily those of The Lankville Daily News or any of its subsidiaries.









































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