The Splendiferous Night Owl of Odell's

I, like the splendiferous night owl that I am, don’t give a flying hoot.” Barbara Banks smoothed out imaginary wrinkles in her black pencil skirt as she made her way to the center of the arena. “Madam Speaker,” she began, “I’ve worked hard at remembering my dream once I discovered that I would be first to present in this dream study group. I’m a night owl and I was quite disturbed that I had been summoned to address this audience at such an ungodly hour. Early birds do get the worm, but they also get muscle aches, headaches, and more frequent cold symptoms. Let's not even talk about their anger issues. Woosh! I'm tired of my early bird friends and family telling me to go to bed and get up early. What for? The evening hours are the perfect time to experience a creative breakthrough just for pure imagination only. We’re smarter and richer than early risers and quicker and more alert when doing complex tasks throughout the day. Telling me to go to bed at a reasonable hour won't help me to maximize my brain “Ms. Banks, no need to be so formal, the voice from the speaker said. “You can call me “The V” as no one has yet determined my age, sex, political class, ethnicity or social position. “Oh, I beg your pardon, “V” I didn't mean to address you in a way that would offend you.” “You didn't, continue please.” “Continue?” Barbara said. She had paused to grab her cosmetic mirror and reapply her makeup. Her reflection revealed a 60ish straightlaced executive administrative secretary with pale blush, baby pink, pear-shaped lips and pale blonde hair twisted in a tight bun. “Continue with your dream please. Not your dissertation on sleep patterns. The other members of the sleep study group chuckled. “The reason why you are here is to participate in a dream study for a monetary endowment.” “Oh, that.” She waved away the idea as if it were an afterthought. Her well-manicured fingers snapped in the air. “Don't need the money,” she grabbed at her collar of her buttoned up white blouse as if she were clutching her grandmother's finest pearls. Another participant in the study shouted, “I'll take your money!” Everyone laughed. Barbara Banks sniffed the air as if someone had passed gas. “How rude,” she replied. “Your dream Ms. Banks,” the voice boomed. “Yes, but of course.” The dream…. I shall proceed.” “Well, thank you your highness, another member yelled. Barbara shot him an icy stare and began. “My dream began in a suspiciously seedy downtown. A place called Odell’s. “Men and women sat at a bar with a black Formica finish perched on gaudy blood red bar stools. A DJ play music which pleased the onlookers. Others chose to sit at silver and chrome tables. The music was thumping in my ears, and I had to cover them from time to time to talk to the other coworkers we were sitting adult death. We were changing our clothes and fixing our hair and make-up. I placed lotion on my face and patted a cream makeup on my forehead and cheeks. I chose a deep red lipstick and black mascara. Everyone was so excited. I had to be the top fashion model. I had just adjusted my fascinator when the master of ceremonies summoned me to the stage. I was the next model to appear. I slipped on my kitten heels and headed for the catwalk. When I arrived, the music appeared louder. There was a strange silver pole in the center of the stage, and I walked out with my best model strut. No one was impressed. I sashayed around the stage several times before I heard several people both men and women shout, “You’re overdressed lady! “So, this was my dream job. I had always wanted to be a fashion model since I’d always been heralded for my beauty and grace. Why these hellions didn't care about the impeccably dressed makeup and hairstyle I was sporting. Was beyond me. I gasped when I saw the master of ceremonies pull off his jacket and shirt. They wanted me to undress. How dare they!” I was then pushed onto the edge of the stage by another quote unquote fashion model who yelled in my ear. “You're up next. Grab that pole! Suddenly, there were hundreds of dollar bills floating everywhere. I found myself collecting piles and piles of dollar ballot bills the more I circled the shiny pole. Finally, I was happy because I found my dream job! In a dream! It’s quite fitting since I don’t have to report to work until midnight. A night owl’s best job ever. I will send in my resignation tomorrow. Barbara took off her tortoise shell frames and untied the knot on top of her head. She shook out her hair and flipped it back. Woo Hoo! When she opened her eyes, her peers were snickling. She ignored them and kept talking. I knew I could do this job because night owls are smarter, more creative and have higher IQ, so there. We’re less tired throughout the day and are definitely less stressed. I have a happier future because I experience more from my nocturnal creative juices.” “Well done, Barbara, the voice said you’ve convinced us all to stay up into the wee hours of the morning. And welcome to show business. She paused for one beat and continued, but don’t quit your day job. Every member of the work study audience jumped out of their seats, hooted, and stomped their feet jubilant that someone had finally put the snooty, Ms. Banks in her proverbial place.