It's almost midnight. I'm browsing the options in the fridge when I hear a knock on the door.
I don't know who could possibly be knocking on my door at that hour. I check the peep hole just to make sure it's not a rapist (or a Jehovah's Witness making midnight rounds) and sigh. It's just The Universe. He must have heard I was having a late-night existentialist party and decided it was his job as The Universe to crash it. Reluctantly, I open the door.
The Universe says nothing. He just stands there looking smug.
"Hey, what's up, Universe?" I say.
"Oh, you know, the usual," he says. "Being big and daunting."
"Wanna come in?" I open the door a little farther and attempt to act welcoming. "I was about to make coffee. Would you like some?"
The Universe comes inside my house. "Yes, I will take coffee," he says. "But nothing in it! It must be dark and unsweetened, like me!"
I go into the kitchen and scoop some grounds into the coffee pot. I remembered that The Universe likes black coffee from the last time he came to visit me. In fact, last time he was here he ended up spilling coffee all over my couch and then left without cleaning it up. The Universe can be a pretty obnoxious house guest sometimes.
But tonight, I don't mind that The Universe decided to hang out at my place. Sure beats playing chess with the ghost of Ingmar Bergman, which is what I did last night.
The coffee is brewing. The Universe takes a seat at my kitchen counter.
"So, you havin a good week, girlfrenn?" asks The Universe. Sometimes, The Universe talks like a black person. I don't know why.
I shrug. "My week is fine. I guess I'm just overwhelmed with a bunch of stuff right now. I'm trying to figure out what I'm doing. I still don't know."
"Isn't that exactly what you said last time I came to see you?"
"Hey, is that coffee done yet? You know I don't sleep at night these days. Everyone and their dog is having some sort of existential crisis that calls for my presence these days."
The coffee is done. I pour him a cup. I also pour a cup for myself, dumping an obscene amount of caramel-flavored creamer into it. The Universe scowls at my excessive use of creamer.
"Gah, you're such a wimp. Want any coffee with that creamer, foo?"
I laugh. The Universe takes a sip of coffee and I prepare to ask him a question.
"Why are you so unknown?" I say.
The Universe just stares at me. I take it as a cue to start asking more ridiculous questions.
"Why are you so big, yet so small? Why do you never really answer my questions? What do you want from me, anyway? What am I doing, sitting here having coffee with you?"
The Universe gulps down his cup of coffee (like a boss) and looks at the built-in clock on my microwave. "It's time for me to boogie on out of here, girlfrenn. But it's been real. Peace."
The Universe leaves without answering any of my questions. It's totally aggravating. But at least this time there were no coffee spills.
There's another knock on the door after The Universe leaves. Just as I suspected - it's the ghost of Ingmar Bergman and he's back for another game of chess.
I should start going to bed earlier.