The Power of the Obvious

The lights flickered, died, and plunged Beatrice’s meticulously organized apartment into a gloom that would rival a badger’s armpit. Gary, who had been attempting to operate her sophisticated espresso machine with the finesse of a startled badger, let out a noise somewhere between a yelp and a sigh.

“Well,” Gary announced, triumphantly, “it seems the power is out.”

Beatrice, who had just walked head-first into a doorframe because she was navigating purely by memory, rubbed her forehead. “Oh, Gary, thank you for that profound insight,” she deadpanned, her voice dripping with an irony so thick it could be spread on toast. “I was beginning to suspect a sudden, localized gravitational anomaly had simply swallowed all the electrons in a five-meter radius around us, leaving the toaster tragically unpowered.”

Gary, ever oblivious, nodded sagely in the near darkness. “It’s always good to rule out the bizarre, isn’t it? Simple explanations are usually the best.”

“Indeed,” Beatrice murmured, fumbling for her phone’s flashlight. “And I suppose the sun, currently shining quite brightly through the window, is merely an elaborate, highly advanced projector screen installed by mischievous gnomes to trick us into believing it’s still daytime, when in fact, the world has plunged into eternal night and we are living in a post-apocalyptic darkness?”

Gary squinted. “No, I think the sun is probably just... the sun.”

“Right,” Beatrice sighed, finally illuminating the room. “Because that would be far too complex. Much simpler to assume the entire electrical grid just decided to take a spontaneous, unannounced vacation. Perhaps they're all at a lovely spa retreat, enjoying cucumber slices and tiny robes.”

Gary chuckled. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait for them to come back, then!”

Beatrice just stared at him. Sometimes, she thought, the sarcasm was wasted. But oh, what a lovely waste it was.