There were two pills – a blue one and a red pill. “Take one,” he said, and adjusted his black sunglasses. I couldn’t fathom why he was wearing dark sunglasses inside the already dimly-lit room. He couldn’t see a thing.
“Er, I’m over here pal,” I said, hiding an amused smile.
He turned towards me and used his free hand to raise his glasses. He stuck them over his forehead, looked at me through his blue contact lenses and said, “Don’t keep moving about, dude.”
“But I – “
“Don’t interrupt me!” he said, interrupting me. “Take a pill.”
“Why? What are these pills?” I asked, slightly angered with his tone.
“You are the Round One. We’ve been waiting for you for well over a decade. You will save us from the evil machine creatures that haunt us. One of these pills will enable you to see the truth and help us, and the other will enable you to go back to your boring PR life and your boring blogs and your boring PR life. You decide.”
“You said that already, man,” I said.
“My boring PR life…”
“Yeah. I know. Now decide!” he said and held out his hand, on which nestled two innocent pills – one red and blue.
“Tell me something first,” I said. “Why am I the Round One? Is it because I’m fat? Why can’t I be the Chosen One or something cooler?”
“Stop wasting time, Round One! Take a pill and save our lives!” he pleaded.
I took the red pill and swallowed it with a glass of water. I waited. Nothing happened. I looked at him. “Now what?” I asked him.
“You bastard,” he said softly. “You’ve decided to go back to your PR life, Round One. You have damned us all.”
As I woke up, back in my boring life the next day, I decided to reduce some weight. Round One? WTF!