To My Dearest Alfie

“…there whenever your car won’t start…Marvin’s Auto Parts… ”

The final note of the jingle lingered in the air as thousands of television screens across the city popped with the reappearance of local morning news. The news anchors were dressed in crisp suits, and their bright smiles flashed a shade of white only the harshest of chemicals could fake. Mothers and fathers sipped coffee and children fought for the maple syrup, their yellow teeth hidden behind tight lips as their eyes fixated on the day’s news report.

“The latest news developing today comes from NASA scientists, who say that a meteoric collision has sent a great ball of fire and rock our way. Experts say we have less than one hour until this meteor, who the general public has fondly named Steve, makes contact with the Earth and threatens the future of the human race.” The male anchor squinted at his notes sheet through the thick black rims of his glasses, trying to remember whether or not he had even read the news report this story came from.

“Well, Rich, looks like everyone should invest in a pair of sunglasses,” said the female anchor by his side. Adults everywhere peeked out their windows at the cloudless sky as she started on the next piece of news. “A girl in the Midwest was filled with embarrassment after mistakenly emailing her professor a love note written to her favorite fictional character. Sharon Nichols had apparently been trying to send in the final paper for her sociology class when she attached the wrong file. When the story went viral, Trey McCallister, who plays the lovelorn character on TV, caught wind of the story and tweeted at Sharon, saying ‘@SharonXLovesXAlfie You’re a star student in my eyes! (;’

“Now here for a panel discussion on whether or not Sharon should receive a passing grade in her class is social media specialist Sophie Walters, Jayneville Community College professor Andrew Davis, and our very own meteorologist, Jason Jeffries,” said the anchor, shuffling her papers absently before turning to the panelists. “Let’s start with you, Sophie. Should Sharon get credit for her effort?”

“Well, you know, in the age of social media, I think we need to look differently at the ways we define success,” began Sophie, “Did she fail to complete the prompt by turning in this love note? Sure. But did you see that tweet she got from Trey McCallister? It takes fans hundreds of copied tweets flooding his feed just to get an angry reply from him, and she secured a winky face! This girl is going places.”

“Listen, I don’t care whether or not some dude with windswept hair tweeted her back,” cut in college professor Andrew Davis, his eyebrows swooping down in frustration, “chances are her professor doesn’t use twitter and has no concern for the number of followers she gained from this little blunder. What is important here is the content of the love letter. I’ve never seen such a moving piece of prose in my thirty years of teaching.”

“Ah, yes the love letter,” said the news anchor, “she posted it online for people who follow her blog to see. Do you think it was a quality piece of writing?”

“I do! Any professor who doesn’t see the raw talent in this girl’s work is blind, end of story. You’ve got to give her an A,” Professor Andrews said as he banged his fist on the table.

“Excuse me, but while this is all rather, um, interesting, don’t you think we should be talking about how the world could very well end any minute?”

The meteorologist had finally found the nerve to speak up in what was becoming the most bizarre and pointless conversation he had ever been thrown into. The debate fell to silence as the rest of the panel stared at him with bewilderment and disbelief. After fifteen seconds of radio silence, the news anchor finally piped up.

“Ahem, well. I’m not really even sure why we asked you to join us. Meteorology isn’t even a real science. Anyways, back to what you were saying, Sophie -”

“What, of course it-”

Every television in the city turned to black as the power grid went down. Citizens throughout the city ran to their windows, gazed at the red sky, and thought, would I have given her an A?