X Day, XXXX Year,
It started out like any other day, really, yet with a minor difference.
For everyone had somehow forgotten whether it was a Saturday, or Sunday.
Somehow, it completely skipped everyone’s mind.
Unlikely as it was, everyone had an exceptionally uneventful yesterday, nothing really noteworthy.
The Chinese in Chinatown, having kneaded some Baos the night before, knows in their hearts of hearts
Bao-kneading is an activity for Friday nights since they would be busy any other night of the week. Proud
of their prodigious memory, they claimed surely that it is Saturday.
The Koreans in Korean town remembered vaguely that they were preparing Kim Chi last afternoon, and
since it was a Saturday since they did that previously, they surmised that today logically must be Sunday.
The seventh day Adventists, having forgotten themselves what day it was, insists that it really is
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Saturday since they, out of all people would know how a Saturday is.
Yet the orthodox Christians quietly, but insistently assured everyone that it actually is Sunday.
Nobody was getting anywhere, half the churches were having weddings, with confused bride and
grooms called out of bed by jittery wedding planners. Absent wedding singers, missing wedding cakes,
absent guests, flustered preachers. It was a bad week to get married, the ultimate nightmare for brides.
Not that it was pleasant for grooms either, being screamed at non-stop for every single confusion.
Another sector having a torrid day is the moviemaking industry. Directors, having wined, dined and
coaxed their lead actors/actresses to come for work for Saturday are getting zero attendance,
drunken(or high?) voicemail welcome messages, and nervous agents apologizing profusely. Hundreds of
movie directors lost hundreds of millions of dollars on caravan rentals (with accompanying Dom
Perignon champagne, Beluga caviar, Coffin Bay King Oysters as agreed the night before) for the absent
leads, location rentals, camera crew, backups, stuntmen, and tufts after tufts of stem cell treated hair
regrowth hair (the Director’s) pulled out of sheer frustration or fury or a combination of both.
Yet there was one person, finally, who claimed he knows what day it is today. How did he know? The
night before, he walked a girl home. Not just any girl, she (he knew) is the love of his life. He
remembered that it was Friday night when he walked her home, and was barely Saturday morning after
walking her home. And they (eventually), lived, very happily (according to most accounts), ever after.