By Benji Elkins:
Dear Diary,
Today was interesting. I realized at around 7:00 this morning that I don’t know what McJagger’s first name is. I began to think how strange it was, considering I was a huge fan of his and the Rolling Stones’ music, that I don’t know the lead singer’s first name. At around 7:05, I decided I would find out what McJagger’s first name was, and then at 7:06, I decided where I would go to eat breakfast.
Dear Diary,
I don’t think I will ever go to the Starbucks down the street again! I went to order a bagel and coffee as I usually do. I’ll admit, I was a little slow in counting my change after my order, but that hold up did not deserve the response I got from the cashier. For, when I decided to take a chance and ask the barista if they knew what McJagger’s first name was, he just looked at me. I even did one of those hand waves across the eyes to see if he was alive. Then he called me “an idiot.”
Dear Diary,
I was using voice to text dictation on the way back from the Starbucks to write my diary entry when I passed by a homeless man. He mentioned that he also had been wondering about McJagger’s first name and would join me on my quest. I found out that his name is Rex, is Irish, and had always felt pride in McJagger for giving his people a good reputation in the music industry.
Dear Diary,
Rex and I decided the only true way to figure out McJagger’s first name is to find McJagger himself. We’ve bought a flight to Hollywood although Rex wanted to bring his dog Tyler. Tyler is a dilapidated looking dog with five legs instead of four. Rex has said that, being a street dog, this makes Tyler unstoppable as he’s got “nothing to lose.” Luckily Tyler was run over by a white woman in a Prius only a few hours later, so now we don’t have to pay to bring him with us to Hollywood.
Dear Diary,
Disaster has befallen us! Rex wanted to go to a Starbucks, as he had always dreamed of it, and I refused based on my past experiences. Rex became increasingly upset until he stormed off and accused me of hating the homeless, specifically calling me hobophobic. Though I regret it now, as he stormed off I yelled that I could easily replace him with any other homeless man off the street. I haven’t seen Rex for a few days and I don’t believe I ever will.
Dear Diary,
I was in a coffee shop today (not Starbucks) and heard a song on the radio. It was called “Moves like McJagger”, although they kept leaving out the “Mc.” At that moment I missed Rex, as I was sure he would have labeled the song Irishphobic. He always claimed the Irish were being white-washed.
Dear Diary,
I have just found out McJagger now lives in Gloucestershire. I don’t know even how to pronounce it. What a funny name. Unfortunately, though, this means my Hollywood trip has been in vain. I don’t know where Rex is so I guess I will have to return back home without him.
Dear Diary,
It has been six months now since I left for Gloucestershire. The trip was delayed as I tried to find another homeless companion. However, each one that responded to my fliers simply were not the same as Rex. The interviews were either boring or just not my style. After arriving in Gloucestershire after a long flight and cab ride, I finally stopped at another coffee shop. There I asked if anyone knew where McJagger was. When I was asked why, I explained I was trying to find out his first name. Suddenly, the crowd in the shop grew dim, and a man stood up in the corner. It was him…McJagger. He came up slowly and said something to me. It was all such a blur I barely remember what he said. In fact, the blur persisted all the way back to the cab ride to the airport and the flight back home. I didn’t snap out of the stupor until I took a shower a few days ago. I did find out his first name though, and maybe I remember weirdly, but it is a funny first name! It’s Mick! Mick McJagger. What a silly man!