I went to McDonald’s the other day for a quick cheeseburger and a soda. When I reached the counter, I gave my order to the young, plucky lad standing there resplendent in his maroon, carefully pressed uniform.
“I’d like a cheesburger and a medium drink, please.”
He looked at me as he keyed in the cheeseburger order to the ultra-modern sophisticated computer they use to place orders. And I mean, this thing looks like it could control a nuclear missile launch. I work for the government and spend my days trying to keep track of thousands of pieces of complex legislation, and my computer does not look as sophisticated as the one this kid uses to ask for extra pickles.
Anyway, he looked at me after unlocking his computer via retinal scan and said, “I’m sorry, sir. We don’t have medium sized sodas.”
“I see,” I said. “What do you have?”
“Small, large and extra-large.”
I thought for a moment and said, “Then isn’t the large a medium?”
He looked puzzled. “No, the large is large.”
“Yes, I understand that, but by virtue of being the middle of three sizes, it thus becomes, by definition, a medium.”
Again, he regarded me with a puzzled look. “Not at all,” he said. “Naming the large ‘medium’ would cause a great deal of confusion.”
I thought for a moment. “Why is that?”
“Because it would imply that the soda has the ability to psychically channel the spirits of the dead. Which it does not.”
“But I can order a medium fries.”
“Yes, because the fries do have this ability.” He pointed to a box of fries steaming under a heat lamp. “Those fries, for example, are currently inhabited by the spirit of Soupy Sales.”
“Is he dead?”
“I don’t know.”
I thought for another moment about the absurdity of the whole situation. “This is rather a silly Thought.”
“Yeah,” said the counter guy, “I’ve been a protagonist in several stories now, and this is definitely pretty lame.”
“Really? What have you done?”
“I was in a Tom Clancy once. Great role.”
I was suitably impressed.
Excuse me, would you two mind getting back to the story?
“Who are you?” I asked.
I’m the narrator, now get back to work.
“How can you be the narrator, this is a first person story?” said my sharp fast-food friend.
Uh, well, this is not ACTUALLY a first person story, as in, I am making it up.
“Yes, that’s true,” I said, “But you seem more like a third-person omniscient narrator and you clearly don’t belong here.”
Really? I seem like a third-person omniscient? Thanks. I’m actually only a third-person limited but I’ve been trying to get into the omniscient side of things. It’s just there are so few openings.
“Yes, well, getting involved in first person stories isn’t going to help you.”
Well, no, I understand. But it’s so boring being a narrator–nothing ever happens to you. You get to talk about all these other people having adventures and you just sit around in this ethereal world. And being third-person limited is the worst. It’s like being the first person but not having anything happen to you.
I suppose it all started for me when….
“Oh dear,” I whispered to the cashier, “This could be a while. I heard they’re auditioning a new Seuss book in the next story. Interested?”
“Sounds good, I’ve always wanted to be a Who. But have we finished the joke that makes up this thought?”
“This thought has a joke?”