The Rites of Passages

Mike was the first person to stand and deliver. He revealed the matters that brought him to this circle of people, this awkward sense of forced, social acceptance. Mike stated rather matter-of-factly that the past week was the last straw. It started with an argument with his wife, Kelsee, over his using her ash tray as a coaster for his Mountain Dew. This escalated to Mike throwing his wedding ring at Kelsee, chipping her tooth. Mike spent the night in jail, despite calling his friend, Jordan, that night to bail him out. The next day after he got off work, Jordan bailed him out and Mike came to shack up with him. On Sunday afternoon, Jordan--having grown tired of hearing his kids whining about Mike's comandeering their gaming console--took Mike to the monster truck rally. Later that afternoon, Kelsee bailed the two men out of jail and presented Mike with divorce papers.

It was the ring of the telephone that delivered Teresa into the hands of insanity. The ring itself was certainly designed to be pleasant. It had a very low, digital tone--especially compared to those of her day. It would cause the plastic casing of the speaker to rattle ever-so-slightly. The sampling rate of the phone was equally low, giving it a fuzzy, almost-nostalgiac tone. It was from that period of time that, had it not been so tragically short, would have established itself as the golden dawn of the digital era. An era that, years from now, poets could have donned synthesizers outfitted with soundcards from Commodore 64s and sung hushed songs about Teresa and her voyage to the industrial-formica Mecca of liberated womanhood.