By JONATHAN KAYS
“Lost” I cried, “I lost my owl…”
The world slowed to a halt as my friends blankly stared at my horror stricken face. “Your new owl?” they asked, “straight from the owlery?”
I looked at them in silence.
Quickly the bros jumped into action and a ferocious fluttering noise filled the room. Sizemore was taking his own owl and putting message after message on it. Philip already had his owl out and and was checking it by swiping his finger on it’s face. There was not a feather of mine anywhere.
No matter how many times the other owls sent messages, or how many times they called, my owl was not to be found. Oh, how I missed it already! I had a snowy white owl, she was perfect, quick, thin, she even had a little mark on her back that almost looked like a piece of fruit.
I retraced my steps to the grill, though quickly regretted it in my shame. Everyone had their owls out and was playing with them. A deep fluttered silence echoed in the room, the only noise an occasional murmur, when an owl apparently wasn’t being quick enough. A few people and owls in the corner started to hoot and yell with a mixture of annoyance and excitement, I turned away in jealousy, I can only assume they were playing Angry Birds.
I had searched all over the grill and still my owl was not to be found. This worried me; as I had not purchased the protective river mammal, my owl could be battered, cracked or even have scratches on it. And I already had made it so that my owl knew all of my music! I needed my owl.
Next I tried the chapel, though because there was a CEP going on I was forced to check the balcony first. The speaker’s words were quite provoking and inspiring even, but my owl took priority. I saw that many people in the crowd below agreed with me. Nearly every person had their owl out. Some were swiping their fingers slowly up and down their owl’s faces, some owls were going about sending messages, some were calling to other owls and many students were holding their owls up to their ears.
I could see that some owls were tweeting.
Though, the majority of people were simply staring passionately into the eyes of their owls.
There was the strained look of need splashed across their faces.
The few people without owls in the audience were listening with great interest to the speaker, and a few of the football players in the back were chatting to each other jovially regardless of their owls. But few others looked up from their swiping fingers, from their hooting, their tweeting, their games, their “connectivity.”
They feared being bored, being uniformed, being out of the loop, their owls were their gods though they did not realize it.
An aviary epidemic had occurred and people were praising it.
I stopped searching.