Good morning.” Jennifer Jackson spoke as she appeared in the kitchen of the apartment she shared with her best friend Kendra. Kendra was already there sitting at the table reading something on her tablet and eating a toasted bagel. She looked up as Jennifer entered the room.
“Good morning,” she said. “If it is a good morning. Which it’s still too early to tell.” She turned back to her reading. “I made tea,” she added.
“It’s Saturday and my roomie made tea,” said Jennifer. “It is definitely a good morning.” She took a teacup from the cabinet and poured herself a cup, then opened the refrigerator in search of milk. “If I fried up some eggs and bacon would you have any?” she asked.
“No,” said Kendra. “But thanks for offering.”
“Good,” said Jennifer. “I don’t actually feel like cooking. I shall have a bowl of Cheerios instead.” She proceeded to follow through on that idea and a minute later sat down at the table with a bowl and the teacup in front of her. “Whatcha readin’?” she asked.
“I’m reading an informative article about a guy who tried to beat a breathalyzer test by eating his underwear in an attempt to absorb the alcohol he had been drinking, in order to keep it from entering his bloodstream,” said Kendra.
“I have to ask,” said Jennifer. “Did it work?”
“Apparently yes,” said Kendra. “He blew .08, which is the legal limit.”
“This is why you should always carry a fresh pair of underwear in your glove compartment,” said Jennifer, “along with your bottle of vodka.”
“Believe it or not,” said Kendra, “this is not the stupidest thing I’ve read on the internet today, and it’s barely 10 o’clock.”
“Dare I ask?” said Jennifer. “What have you read that’s more stupid than eating your shorts?”
“Donald Trump says windmills cause cancer,” said Kendra.
“Huh,” said Jennifer. “Who would have guessed. Maybe Don Quixote was on the right track.”
“Who’s Don Quixote?” asked Kendra.
“Oh come on Kendra. Everybody knows who Don Quixote is. You know, The Man of La Mancha? One of the greatest novels ever written? Don Quixote, the self-described knight, best known for his frequent altercations with windmills?” Jennifer took a sip of tea. “Too bad the windmills clobbered him every time. Maybe if Don had been successful in his quest to rid the world of them, the world would be both windmill and cancer free today.”
“Maybe Donald Trump is a reincarnation of Donald Quixote,” said Kendra.
“Oh my god, that would explain everything!” said Jennifer. “Especially his windmill comment.”
“Well, I don’t know if it would explain everything,” said Kendra, “but it sounds as though it might explain a lot.”
“Do you know,” said Jennifer, “why Don Quixote was off his rocker?”
“Of course I don’t,” said Kendra.
“Because he read too many romantic novels,” said Jennifer. “So many that he couldn’t tell the difference between the novels and real life.”
“I read a lot of romantic novels,” said Kendra, “but I have never even considered putting on armour and attacking windmills with a sword.”
“No,” said Jennifer, “but you did fall off your horse once and then refuse to let me help you up because you were waiting for some rugged cowboy named Colton, with an open shirt and a ten-gallon Stetson to come along and rescue you.”
“I think I might have had a bit of a concussion,” said Kendra. “And a broken heart. Dang Colton. So unreliable.” She paused in her reading and looked up. “Are you going to the country today to see your folks?”
Jennifer nodded. “I’m going this afternoon. I’m gonna have dinner with Mom and Dad and probably stay over till tomorrow because I won’t feel like driving back to the city because it’ll be late and I’ll probably have a glass or two of wine.”
“And I bet you don’t have a pair of underwear in your glove compartment,” said Kendra. “Can I hitch a ride?” she added.
“Sure,” said Jennifer. “I’ll tell Mom to put an extra plate on the table. And you are correct about the underwear.”
“Never mind the extra plate,” said Kendra. “I want to have dinner with my folks. I feel like I haven’t seen them in a month.”
“You saw them the second weekend of March,” said Jennifer. “So that IS a month.”
“That explains it then,” said Kendra. “Thanks for the ride. We should take the long way around through St. Leon.”
“Why?” asked Jennifer.
“So we can stop and sabotage a few windmills,” said Kendra. “Do our bit in the fight against cancer.”
“Do you have armour or a sword?” asked Jennifer.
“Nope,” said Kendra.
“Me either,” said Jennifer.
“The windmills win again,” said Kendra.
“From now on,” said Jennifer, “I say we just call them winmills.”