Living Columns & Blogs

Asking for trouble, and answering it

Mrs. Cool Kid’s new job allows her some reading time while she’s working.

I know what you’re thinking: How do I join that union?

Glad you asked, because questions are what this column is about. That’s right, Angel Bunny Butterscotch. Not every column is about you.

But I will share the question you asked me, Sugar Biscuit Wubbiewub. After all, is this not a column about questions?

Mrs. Cool Kid’s friend gave her some novels. She was trying to choose which one to read at work and asked me, “Have you ever heard of James Patterson?”

I wisely — as is my wont — answered with a question of my own: “Do I look stupid?”

“Yes,” she said, mostly because she’s jealous of the Chick-fil-A paper hat I was wearing. You know, the one that has the partial cow’s head that starts on your forehead and extends up.

It makes me look like some kind of Egyptian human/critter hybrid stud god. Mrs. Cool Kid rejects this truth.

So I rephrased my question to take my potent appearance out of the equation: “You think I haven’t heard of America’s most prolific contemporary author?”

At this point, my attitude came into question, and the conversation ended with me ducking as a copy of “The 5th Horseman” flew my way.

It was insidious intent, which led me to an overwhelming question: “What is truth?”

That’s my all-time favorite literary question. It’s from the Bible. Pilate asks it in John 18:38.

I use it all the time, especially in answer to other questions.

Do you really sit around the house wearing a Chick-fil-A hat?

“What is truth?”

Did Mrs. Cool Kid really throw a book at you?

“What is truth?”

Do you really call her Sugar Biscuit Wubbiewub?

“What is truth?”

Did she really ask you if you know who James Patterson is?

“Yes.”

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