My kinda freaks

Well, it’s 7pm, and I am sitting in my car, awaiting for instructions to meet my fellow odd fellows.

The exact time and location has yet to be disclosed.

As usual, the plans are loose.

“Let’s meet in a pub around 7.30pm, or so,” seemed to be the latest update.

I am waiting for the inevitable text about five minutes before meeting time; that one odd fellow or more (usually me), says they are unable to attend.

It’s not like we have busy schedules.

The only other real alternative is sleep, which I’m tempted to opt for.

But it’s been a while since the old gang has gotten together.

We first started hanging out maybe eight or ten years ago, but that’s only according to the human clock.

There is no real rhyme or reason for this kinship.

We all differ in age.

I’m not sure how it begun, or how it has lasted this long.

Our conversations consist of grunts and shrugs.

Less is more when it comes to sociality.

My kinda freaks.

And what will tonight bring if we all show up?

A night of regret?

Will tomorrow bring sorrow?

I’m going along for the ride to find out where this party ends.

That is, if we ever find out where we are starting.

At the time of writing this, I have still had zero correspondence from this mysterious bunch.

Nor have I made any suggestions or attempted to communicate with them.

I’m an odd fellow myself.

And proud of it.

Like I say, a peculiar bunch of humans are we.

Odd fellows, in every sense.

I look out the car window at an empty town.

Time is ticking and still not a word.

I wonder who will show up… and where.