In this edition: No regular edition this week. Next week as usual. Read below for further instructions…
Clicking open an email, the reader was confused. Where was the sparkling and incomparably witty dialogue they had become used to?
They wanted it, craved it like a late night dessert. If you had asked, they would have said they “needed” it even.
Hadn’t the writer promised an edition on the election? How was the reader to know whether to riot, shrug, or pop champagne over the results? How was the reader to rub their intelligence in their friend’s face this week?
The dek— that journalist jargon for tagline— had said “with apologies” but the writer didn’t seem very apologetic.
“Come back next week,” he said, flatly. “There’ll be a bigger, better, uncensored edition fresh off the keyboard.”
Turning to leave, the reader says, “I’m confused.”
The writer nods in agreement.
“Obviously,” he said.
Shrugging, the reader went on with their day, dreaming of next week.
“Sometimes momentary confusion is a good thing,” the reader heard over their shoulder as they clicked off.