Owl Monologue

It is February 9^th, never before have I felt like such a weirdo standing around on campus. I met my investigative partner, Ben; he seems highly motivated about the project. I can’t say the same for me. Although, owls are really cool, the chances I see or hear any seem to me, very slim. I’d say it’s about 25°F out here and the area is bathed in an orange glow thanks to the tall light poles that are supposed to bring me comfort. People keep trickling by, treading lightly on the sidewalk, for it is slippery. Snow is falling, but I don’t think it is from the sky, most likely the trees and lamp post. My feet betray me and my eyes are weary. This setup is not very promising. If I were a professional I would be better equipped…mentally. For now I hear only voices in the distance and passing cars. Not the flutter of owl wings. Not the soft hoot hoot of an owl’s voice. Thinking practically, I wish I smoked cigarettes to entertain myself. I wish I was stoned. I also wish my cell phone hadn’t died, for I wish to call someone and have them bring me a cig or food…or company. I’m so desperate I may abduct a passing stranger and con them into conversation, though people have stopped passing by. CIGARETTE! So what of these owls? If I were an owl I would be out or sleeping, not chirping around in these trees. Or what about copulating owls? It is close to that time of year right? Now THAT would be money. As my body temperature lowers so does my moral. Now I’m inside Linfield. I’m taking a quick break from the bitter cold. When my toes regain feeling I will venture forth again. Ahhh…sweet warmth. I wonder what Krista is doing. I am doing this for her so she can go hang out with her newly acquired boy toy. By boy toy I mean this really nice guy she just began dating. By the way, I’m back outside where snowballs are falling. Back to Krista. Kyle invited her for hamburgers and hottubbing. HOTTUBBING! What a cruel idea for me to dwell on. In fact I feel colder. Oh cruel world. A young man just walked by…I asked for the time. He said, “Time? Yeah. Sure.” And dug his cell out of his back pack to report 6:33pm. I’ve only been out here for 33 minutes. Another hour and 27 minutes to go. Hip Hip Hooray. Speaking of hip hip hooray, a nice alcoholic beverage would be much appreciated. “Excuse me, bartender dear, may I please have a double gin and tonic, light on the tonic. For my soul grows weary of fruitlessly awaiting signs of owl life.” Back inside. My throat is feeling rather sore, and as luck would usually have it I forgot my throat lozenges. I hope Ben doesn’t come back to find me hunched over this wooden table, dead, which has most certainly been loved, if only by me. It looks well used with finish scratched off and water stains. Back outside. It’s colder now. I can’t help but remind myself that I’m doing this for Krista and I shouldn’t complain. I mean I volunteered. I wish someone had piped up when I made the offer to say, “Are you out of your fucking mind?..........You are out of your fucking mind!” But this is something I already know. Seriously, I am such a victim.