Christmas Carol

When I told John that his name means toilet he gave a funny look because he had never heard anyone say I need to go to the John.

Frank means honesty, said Frank.

June is the sixth month, said June.

But today I felt most comfortable talking to Carol. And it made all the difference.

Carol has another meaning, I told Carol.

We were still dialing -- is anyone home? -- trying to connect, to pave it smoothly, and sustain a minute's conversation without getting pecked in the face by invisible pebbles that made us look for a microsecond at some random space. But we would connect again, until the next pebble pecks at us, and we disconnect, only to connect again. I pictured Carol in a red and green hat amidst drifting snowflakes and somewhere in the back are silhouettes of flying reindeers and I thought it kind of funny. I also pictured Carol attached to the end of a spring that flings when the present is opened. Carol in the box. Christmas carol. But I didn't tell her. Maybe next time I will.

How's the job search? asked Carol.

Interviews are very interesting, I replied, they ask very interesting questions.

Then on the way home I thought of red and green shiny laser teddy bear stickers -- which made no sense.