The Egg Salad

Something extraordinary happened today. I find it hard to believe myself, but it’s true. It all seemed so serendipitous that it’s probably a safe bet that I am in some bed-ridden coma having this weird fever dream, or, more accurately, this twisted nightmare. If you had tried to explain to me that this, of all things, had happened to me, of all people, I would have called you crazy.

I played it safe. I walked the lines drawn by smarter people and followed the signs marked by those wiser. I would never cross a street without looking both ways, nor would I ever eat dessert before the entree. Call it a logical devotion. There’s a purposeful rhyme and a dutiful reason for every rule they have weighed and chosen. And for both you and I as the same fellow humans whose foibles and follies naturally outweigh our good days, I would have suggested you do the same. There was no cause for I to be the martyr. There was no belief for I to hold too contrary. If it prolonged the shared strife of yours and mine, it was not for me.

Those were the words I lived by. Up until Shelley made me an egg salad.

~=+=~

Behind the flashy advertisements and the plethora of tech merchandise, through the enthusiastic customers and the less-enthusiastic employees, past the “employee-only” and past down the hall, further down, past the few “functional” office room and supply closets, is a lonely and abused wooden door that has a oddly new, polished plaque: “Technical and Holistic Exorcism Office”. Nailed beside the door, behind the defaced paper cutout of two confident investigators, is an overflowing mail box of unopened letters.

Inside is a small, one desk office that contains one bored detective. On the wall, large and centered, is a framed newspaper of their glorious first case: “A Real Ghost Buster!” But that’s about it. Other mystical knickknacks and artifacts decorate the walls, while an never-ending stack of opened letters and papers accompany the figure at the desk. And of course snacks. Never forget snacks.

A knock.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Bathroom’s around the corner.

SHELLEY

Oh. That’s rather convenient. But I’m here to see the detective.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

We’re closed.

Silence. Tiny scratching sounds can be heard on the door. Then, clink! The door unlocks and opens.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Hey!

SHELLEY

Problem solved. Hey to you too [smiling].

The figure walks in and sits down. Waiting. Staring. And all the while smiling. A beat.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Sorry. Um. We are closed…[a bit disturbed] Can I help you?

Silence. The person looks around, then back at her.

SHELLEY

No. Actually. Not really. Not you specifically.

She slouches back into her chair. She has been through this way too many times before.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Alright. I see. Here to give a complaint then?

SHELLEY

Not yet. Thanks for asking though– but what a nice little office you have here, do you usually leave all your papers out like this? And is that a window? [She gets up and peers out] Dude, nice view. You can really make out the details of this brick wall.

There is indeed a brick wall right in front of the only window, blocking the entire view.

The detective clears her throat.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Sorry, do I know you?

SHELLEY

Oh, right. Sorry, you don’t know me yet. Name’s Shelley.

She extends out her hand. She shakes it, but does not break eye contact.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Hello [cautiously].

SHELLEY

Yes. Hello to you too–

DETECTIVE PEANUT

[interjects] How do you know me?

SHELLEY

Uh, well. Not sure actually, buddy. Pal. Amigo… Bestie. Do you know what this is for?

She places down a saran-wrapped egg salad on the table.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Funny.

SHELLEY

Not quite [completely missing the sarcasm]. I think you eat it—but! Not this one. No no no no. This. This is special.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

What’s in it?

SHELLEY

Just eggs. I made it this morning, but for some reason, I don’t feel hungry.

She picks it back up and investigates the bowl closely.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Wonderful.

She pushes aside the papers onto the floor and picks up the desk phone.

SHELLEY

Who are you calling?

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Security.

SHELLEY

Oh, you mean Raj? Don’t worry, he’s taking a nap.

The phone continues to ring, and no one picks up.

DETECTIVE PEANUT

Great. What do you want? Money? Attention? What?

To Be Continued

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I understand, nothing has happened yet. But just you wait…