I Asked Shel Silverstein About the Meaning of Life . . .

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

Hello? Shel?

(Door swings open)

Hey, Shel. Sorry to bother you. I know you’re brooding right now, but I was hoping you could answer a question for me.

Shel? If you come on the deck and listen to my question, I promise I won’t make you sit in a chair. Manspread to you heart’s delight! What do you say?

Thanks, Shel. Okay, the question is pretty deep, but I know you are a deep thinker.

What? Oh, you’re going to pretend like you aren’t? Don’t pull this false modesty stuff on me. I’ve read The Missing Piece.

So here’s my question . . . what is the meaning of life?

What?! Shel! I’m serious. I thought you might know. Do you know?

Do you?

Silent treatment, eh? How about I shout out a few possibilities and you put on a ridiculous fur coat if I’m right?

Love!

Freedom!

Happiness!

Creativity!

Creativity? That’s it?

Look at me in a way that makes me feel special if that’s it.

Huh. I would have guessed “love”. You sure it isn’t that?

Okay, I get the message. Thank you, Shel.

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