Missed Message

Missed Message

Later, as  we drove our band gear-filled station wagon north on Lake Shore Drive, I tipped the cassette into the player on the seat between us.

“OK, wait, you have to listen to this. This is important,” I told Mary, my tampon earrings bumped against my neck like pendulums.

But squeaks and shrieks emitted from the speakers.

“Egatnavdasid ym fo egatnavda koot uoy esuaceb,” a man’s voice said. “Egatnavda koot uoy esuaceb. Rennis a fo egatnavda koot uoy esuaceb.”

“Aw, crap. Tape’s upside down,” I said.