Spoiler Alert

As boring as it sounds, I happen to be one of those people who enjoy reading their community newspapers. There’s one from the home owner’s association, one from the electricity co-op we belong to, another one from the neighborhood, and several others I pick up randomly at the local grocery store or coffee shop. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? Nothing wrong with wanting to enjoy the local news in peace?

I suppose “enjoy” is a strong word. It’s more of an obligation, a sense of duty. And every once in a while, there’s an actual article that I can tolerate reading. Between the articles on “Fall Fertilizing” and “Food Trailer Night”, the “Bulk Garbage Pickup Schedule” and the “Select Swim Team”, maybe there’s a hidden gem. Maybe there’s a tidbit, a morsel, a smidgen of information that I’ll enjoy, something that will leave an impression.

Was my wife unaware of this? Hadn’t she seen me reading about the baby coverall recall? The Chamber of Commerce updates? The exciting race for School Superintendent? Ten Things for National Fruits and Vegetables month? An article with the words “Cranky Pants” in the title? Okay, maybe I didn’t read that one, but how can you not like a title with “Cranky Pants” in it?

It might be months between these hidden gems. How could she ruin it all? She ought to have known better. Instead, as if she were ignorant of all this, one day in the car she blurts out, “There’s a cute article in the newsletter this month about Myrtle the Turtle. She climbed under a fence ten years ago, and her original owners just recovered her. You ought to read it.”

A pall descends. What could I say? A story about an escaped turtle? Of course I ought to read it. Why wouldn’t I want to read it? I fantasize about reptilian breakouts. How could she do this to me?

“Did you hear me?” she asked. “There’s an article about–“

“Spoiler alert!”

“What?”

“Spoiler alert. You ruined it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You just gave away the best article in the entire newsletter.”

“Myrtle the turtle’s the best article?”

“It could have been. If I’d had a chance to read it without you giving away the surprise ending, I might have found out for myself.”

“You’re being silly.”

“Now, when I read it, if I read it at all, I’m going to know it all turns out well in the end. The suspense is gone. It’s completely ruined!”

“You’re crazy.”

Am I? Was I wrong to want to read about the zany hijinks of a vagabond turtle all by myself, without someone spoiling the ending for me? I don’t think so. Do you?