The Fan: An Epic Adventure

The scene: 9:30 pm. Scott is playing tennis, and I am studying. The fan, our only refuge in our steamy, close, second story apartment, begins wailing in an unearthly screech.

10:00. Scott gets home. "What is that?"

10:24. Scott removes the face of the fan, thinking it is a rubbing noise. Dust blows all over our bedroom.

10:27. Scott pours olive oil over the fan.

10:31. "Lorren, will you run down to the car and get the belt conditioner?"

10:34. The bedroom is now steamy and filled with poisonous fumes. And hellish screeching.

10:40. Despair.

10:57. Scott grabs a hammer and gives the fan a couple of solid whacks. I yell out, "That is such a man thing to do! 'Let's just hit a couple of times and see if it works!'"

10:58. An eerie silence descends on our apartment as we wait, breathlessly, to see if the fan will begin wailing again.

10:59. I humbly apologize.

11:02. We go to sleep with the fan (silently) blowing blissfully cold air over us.

Fin.