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Thursday, October 09, 2003
^Mervlod's Bad Day
Enough of this serious, schmerious stuff, lets get onto something a little more fun - shall we? I agree.
I found this as I was poking through some of my old writing, and I thought, although it was juvenile, it deserved a shot at internet publication:
Dear Diary,
I had a really bad day. Let me say that again, I had a really bad day. If you didn't catch the first two times - I had a really bad day today. But maybe I had better start at the beginning...
The alarm went off. Grumbling, I got up to shut it off. My eyes widened with horror. The clock read:
10:19
Mary had done it again! She had been doing it a lot lately - setting my alarm forward a couple of hours so I was late for work. They had warned me I was on thin ice. I wondered absently if there was something going on with her. A violet coloured note stood against the alarm clock. I picked it up and read it. It said:
___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Johnston, [I hate it when she calls me by my last name]
I decided last night to move out with Bob. You would probably like an explanation. WELL, I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU ONE, IDIOT, because if you haven't' figured out why by now, you don't deserve one, and no, it's not because I think Mary and Bob sounds better together than Mary and Mervlod [I hate it when she calls me by my first name].
Mary.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I was flabbergasted. How can she do that, diary? I ask you. I have done everything possible to make our married life good, haven't I?
However, whenever I got her back, it wouldn't do me any good if I didn't have a job - Mary's a money woman, you've got to understand. She has rather expensive tastes. So by 10:25, I had gotten over my surprise, and satisfied I would get her back after work, I went to my closet - which was now pretty empty, partly because Mary's clothes were all gone and partly because she hadn't done laundry for a month. I searched through and could only find one suitable shirt - and I would hardly call it suitable. I had worn it last New Years as a joke. It was crisp, neon pink cotton, sporting fat, tumbling panda bears.
As for pants, I had a choice. I could wear psychedelic retro pants of too many colours to mention or bright yellow slacks with "I'm too sexy for my pants" written across my backside. Needless to say, I decided I would go for a 70's look.
I dashed into the kitchen, opened the fridge and realized that Mary hadn't gone shopping for about a month either. The only thing to be seen there was French salad dressing and a slice of stale poppy seed cake. I picked it up an ate it as I ran out to the garage, forgetting, of course, the havoc which my chosen food item wreaks with teeth.
Surprisingly, the car started fine. There was nothing which happened to stop my progress to work, except the fact that I ran into a garbage can full of rotting vegetable matter which rather eagerly imparted my vehicle with its perfumes.
Arriving late for work is a bit of a problem because all of the parking spaces near the front are taken and you have to walk half a kilometer from the parking space to the building.
Other than that fact, I arrived at the building bright and early. At least I tried to make myself believe that, so I wouldn't look guilty walking in two hours late and perhaps wouldn't be noticed. The elevator took me up to the 23rd floor and let me off. I marched confidently over to my cubicle, where I worked on the growing pile of business assaulting my desk.
And there was my boss. Yep, he was mad. Oh gosh! I didn't know he was that mad. Apparently, I no longer had to report to that place of employment and I was more than welcome to leave anytime in the next 20 minutes, provided I leave my desk clean and empty. He would even supply me with a box - oh joy - an empty box to place my personal possessions which unfortunately were also required to leave.
In less than 20 minutes, in 15, in fact, I stood in the elevator with the box, leaving that place of employment. It was, I believe the 15th floor where the elevator suddenly jerked to a halt. The door opened to a concrete wall, except for a crack at the top, where I could see business shoes going about their business. Now, you see it all the time in movies, how the person in the elevator tosses aside the vent on the ceiling and pulls themselves up to safety. Uh huh...not so easily done. You would almost think they'd been practicing. However, my gift box aided me and only straining a few dozen muscles and only inflicting a single gash because of the metal grating of the elevator on my arm, I lifted myself to safety.
In a parallel descending elevator there was a thief who was having an even worse day than I, I imagine, who had just gotten a lucky break. He stole some money from the 27th floor offices and hopped in the elevator. He and I were thus descending parallel to each other and some bright person got the elevators confused and therefore, the thief was assumed to be me. They stopped my elevator midfloor, hoping to capture me. My ingenuity with escapage, I'm afraid, did not surprise them and as I stepped out into safety, I stepped right into the hands of a waiting gun with its owner barking orders, often contradictory to each other:
"Freeze! Put your hands on your head! Get out of the elevator now! Now! Don't move!"
Confused at this sudden barrage of militaristic verbiage spewed at my person, I tried to do what was commanded, but soon I was surrounded by like minded people - oh yes and those handcuffs were a might too tight as they trucked me out to the car where I waited for an indefinite period of time before taking me downtown.
Later, in a rather tight grey room, I was asked repeatedly where the money was. I offered my wallet to the rather obese gentleman but he politely refused and continued on in the manner rather reminiscent of a talking doll I once bought for my niece. She pulled the string and time after time, it simply reiterated the same thing. I soon tired of this unglamorous toy and asked why I was here.
The robbery was explained to me much in the manner of Hercule Poirot, only since I hadn't actually been present for the crime, and the scene did not flash before my eyes as it does usually for the viewers' benefit, it pretty much meant nothing to me.
I suggested that perhaps he was mistaken. The blubberous man left for a minute, I suppose to check security videos, or perhaps for a donut break, came back and told me to "get out of here".
I vacated the building much in the same way I had vacated every other building that day, and went in search of my car. On the way by, I passed a cafe. Glancing in, I saw, a beautiful blonde haired woman, - Mary! I rushed in and kissed her passionately when I realized my mistake. This woman looked exactly the same from the back, but wasn't quite the same woman from the front. I saw her husband out if the corner of my eye, his face almost the same shade as tomato juice.
I wasn't quite in shape and I had been meaning to start exercising. Now's a good time, I thought as I started to warm up for the Boston Marathon. One of those wonderful merchants downtown decided at that moment to take advantage of my obviously disadvantaged condition and place in my path a wagon full of china.
Suddenly, it was a race of three. This is gaining popularity, I thought. Luckily, my car was only a little farther ahead being approached by a tow truck. The sign:
___________________________________________________________________________________
This parking lot is for employees only
___________________________________________________________________________________
flashed through my mind. My ex-boss must really have it out for me. A sudden flash of inspiration hit me just as began to wonder if there as such a thing as a second wind. If I got there before the tow truck...
I dived for the vagrant automobile. No, my car wasn't black. Oh wait, that was the pavement. The burning sensation in my face suddenly made sense.
Now I decided another sport would be in order, after, I think I'd mastered one - long jump, why don't we try that one?
Made it to the car just in time, and once again surprisingly, it started. After everything else had gone wrong too, the car was still Mr. Reliable. I think the stench which my car still sported may have kept the husband and sales associate at bay temporarily, but the tow truck driver must have had this olfactory glands removed surgically, so he just kept on coming. I left a small dent on the side of his vehicle - it was an accident after all, and couldn't have been larger than the size of a late 80's model photocopier, I swear.
Needless to say, I decided my car should follow my keen sporting example and boot it out of there. Once out of downtown, I followed a firetruck, which surprisingly took every right turn towards my house, I was congratulating myself of my good luck, which I was convinced was beginning to turn when the firetruck suddenly turned down my very own street.
I wondered for a brief moment if Mary was at home shaking a very, very dusty red sheet out the window or if...the firetruck was stopping...at my house and the yellow ducks inside frantically decided that they wanted to stop there for tea and cookies. Well, I didn't have any, so they were out of luck! But if they wanted some salad dressing...
Snap out of it Mervlod! Yeah, thanks diary. I still have Mr. Reliable. That's right. I drove away, more slowly this time under the boiling clouds, which looked like they had been left over the burner too long. Kind of like my house.
I saw a poor young man by the roadside, hitchhiking. I felt sorry for him so I pulled over and offered to give him a lift. He couldn't have had a worse day than me, although maybe close. Actually, as I later learned, I had given him a rather lucky break that day, involving an elevator mixup. He asked me for another favour - he wanted Mr. Reliable. I wouldn't have given it to him except for Mr. Trigger who added extra bargaining power and who I was happy stayed in his pocket.
So there I was, out in the middle of the country, no where to go and suddenly, you guessed it - it started to rain - no that's rather an understatement. It was more like the Pacific was pouring down on my head from some giant misplaced fishbowl.
"Why?! God why?!" I screamed into the storm, swallowing significant amounts of seawater at the same time. A giant thumb from heaven came down, ready to squash me when suddenly I heard my alarm clock. I looked around, trying to find this marvel. It stood over on my desk as usual. It read : 10:19 and a purple piece of paper stood beside it. It had the funny feeling I knew what that paper said...
© 2003 All rights reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.
I found this as I was poking through some of my old writing, and I thought, although it was juvenile, it deserved a shot at internet publication:
Dear Diary,
I had a really bad day. Let me say that again, I had a really bad day. If you didn't catch the first two times - I had a really bad day today. But maybe I had better start at the beginning...
The alarm went off. Grumbling, I got up to shut it off. My eyes widened with horror. The clock read:
10:19
Mary had done it again! She had been doing it a lot lately - setting my alarm forward a couple of hours so I was late for work. They had warned me I was on thin ice. I wondered absently if there was something going on with her. A violet coloured note stood against the alarm clock. I picked it up and read it. It said:
___________________________________________________________________________________
Dear Johnston, [I hate it when she calls me by my last name]
I decided last night to move out with Bob. You would probably like an explanation. WELL, I'M NOT GOING TO GIVE YOU ONE, IDIOT, because if you haven't' figured out why by now, you don't deserve one, and no, it's not because I think Mary and Bob sounds better together than Mary and Mervlod [I hate it when she calls me by my first name].
Mary.
___________________________________________________________________________________
I was flabbergasted. How can she do that, diary? I ask you. I have done everything possible to make our married life good, haven't I?
However, whenever I got her back, it wouldn't do me any good if I didn't have a job - Mary's a money woman, you've got to understand. She has rather expensive tastes. So by 10:25, I had gotten over my surprise, and satisfied I would get her back after work, I went to my closet - which was now pretty empty, partly because Mary's clothes were all gone and partly because she hadn't done laundry for a month. I searched through and could only find one suitable shirt - and I would hardly call it suitable. I had worn it last New Years as a joke. It was crisp, neon pink cotton, sporting fat, tumbling panda bears.
As for pants, I had a choice. I could wear psychedelic retro pants of too many colours to mention or bright yellow slacks with "I'm too sexy for my pants" written across my backside. Needless to say, I decided I would go for a 70's look.
I dashed into the kitchen, opened the fridge and realized that Mary hadn't gone shopping for about a month either. The only thing to be seen there was French salad dressing and a slice of stale poppy seed cake. I picked it up an ate it as I ran out to the garage, forgetting, of course, the havoc which my chosen food item wreaks with teeth.
Surprisingly, the car started fine. There was nothing which happened to stop my progress to work, except the fact that I ran into a garbage can full of rotting vegetable matter which rather eagerly imparted my vehicle with its perfumes.
Arriving late for work is a bit of a problem because all of the parking spaces near the front are taken and you have to walk half a kilometer from the parking space to the building.
Other than that fact, I arrived at the building bright and early. At least I tried to make myself believe that, so I wouldn't look guilty walking in two hours late and perhaps wouldn't be noticed. The elevator took me up to the 23rd floor and let me off. I marched confidently over to my cubicle, where I worked on the growing pile of business assaulting my desk.
And there was my boss. Yep, he was mad. Oh gosh! I didn't know he was that mad. Apparently, I no longer had to report to that place of employment and I was more than welcome to leave anytime in the next 20 minutes, provided I leave my desk clean and empty. He would even supply me with a box - oh joy - an empty box to place my personal possessions which unfortunately were also required to leave.
In less than 20 minutes, in 15, in fact, I stood in the elevator with the box, leaving that place of employment. It was, I believe the 15th floor where the elevator suddenly jerked to a halt. The door opened to a concrete wall, except for a crack at the top, where I could see business shoes going about their business. Now, you see it all the time in movies, how the person in the elevator tosses aside the vent on the ceiling and pulls themselves up to safety. Uh huh...not so easily done. You would almost think they'd been practicing. However, my gift box aided me and only straining a few dozen muscles and only inflicting a single gash because of the metal grating of the elevator on my arm, I lifted myself to safety.
In a parallel descending elevator there was a thief who was having an even worse day than I, I imagine, who had just gotten a lucky break. He stole some money from the 27th floor offices and hopped in the elevator. He and I were thus descending parallel to each other and some bright person got the elevators confused and therefore, the thief was assumed to be me. They stopped my elevator midfloor, hoping to capture me. My ingenuity with escapage, I'm afraid, did not surprise them and as I stepped out into safety, I stepped right into the hands of a waiting gun with its owner barking orders, often contradictory to each other:
"Freeze! Put your hands on your head! Get out of the elevator now! Now! Don't move!"
Confused at this sudden barrage of militaristic verbiage spewed at my person, I tried to do what was commanded, but soon I was surrounded by like minded people - oh yes and those handcuffs were a might too tight as they trucked me out to the car where I waited for an indefinite period of time before taking me downtown.
Later, in a rather tight grey room, I was asked repeatedly where the money was. I offered my wallet to the rather obese gentleman but he politely refused and continued on in the manner rather reminiscent of a talking doll I once bought for my niece. She pulled the string and time after time, it simply reiterated the same thing. I soon tired of this unglamorous toy and asked why I was here.
The robbery was explained to me much in the manner of Hercule Poirot, only since I hadn't actually been present for the crime, and the scene did not flash before my eyes as it does usually for the viewers' benefit, it pretty much meant nothing to me.
I suggested that perhaps he was mistaken. The blubberous man left for a minute, I suppose to check security videos, or perhaps for a donut break, came back and told me to "get out of here".
I vacated the building much in the same way I had vacated every other building that day, and went in search of my car. On the way by, I passed a cafe. Glancing in, I saw, a beautiful blonde haired woman, - Mary! I rushed in and kissed her passionately when I realized my mistake. This woman looked exactly the same from the back, but wasn't quite the same woman from the front. I saw her husband out if the corner of my eye, his face almost the same shade as tomato juice.
I wasn't quite in shape and I had been meaning to start exercising. Now's a good time, I thought as I started to warm up for the Boston Marathon. One of those wonderful merchants downtown decided at that moment to take advantage of my obviously disadvantaged condition and place in my path a wagon full of china.
Suddenly, it was a race of three. This is gaining popularity, I thought. Luckily, my car was only a little farther ahead being approached by a tow truck. The sign:
___________________________________________________________________________________
This parking lot is for employees only
___________________________________________________________________________________
flashed through my mind. My ex-boss must really have it out for me. A sudden flash of inspiration hit me just as began to wonder if there as such a thing as a second wind. If I got there before the tow truck...
I dived for the vagrant automobile. No, my car wasn't black. Oh wait, that was the pavement. The burning sensation in my face suddenly made sense.
Now I decided another sport would be in order, after, I think I'd mastered one - long jump, why don't we try that one?
Made it to the car just in time, and once again surprisingly, it started. After everything else had gone wrong too, the car was still Mr. Reliable. I think the stench which my car still sported may have kept the husband and sales associate at bay temporarily, but the tow truck driver must have had this olfactory glands removed surgically, so he just kept on coming. I left a small dent on the side of his vehicle - it was an accident after all, and couldn't have been larger than the size of a late 80's model photocopier, I swear.
Needless to say, I decided my car should follow my keen sporting example and boot it out of there. Once out of downtown, I followed a firetruck, which surprisingly took every right turn towards my house, I was congratulating myself of my good luck, which I was convinced was beginning to turn when the firetruck suddenly turned down my very own street.
I wondered for a brief moment if Mary was at home shaking a very, very dusty red sheet out the window or if...the firetruck was stopping...at my house and the yellow ducks inside frantically decided that they wanted to stop there for tea and cookies. Well, I didn't have any, so they were out of luck! But if they wanted some salad dressing...
Snap out of it Mervlod! Yeah, thanks diary. I still have Mr. Reliable. That's right. I drove away, more slowly this time under the boiling clouds, which looked like they had been left over the burner too long. Kind of like my house.
I saw a poor young man by the roadside, hitchhiking. I felt sorry for him so I pulled over and offered to give him a lift. He couldn't have had a worse day than me, although maybe close. Actually, as I later learned, I had given him a rather lucky break that day, involving an elevator mixup. He asked me for another favour - he wanted Mr. Reliable. I wouldn't have given it to him except for Mr. Trigger who added extra bargaining power and who I was happy stayed in his pocket.
So there I was, out in the middle of the country, no where to go and suddenly, you guessed it - it started to rain - no that's rather an understatement. It was more like the Pacific was pouring down on my head from some giant misplaced fishbowl.
"Why?! God why?!" I screamed into the storm, swallowing significant amounts of seawater at the same time. A giant thumb from heaven came down, ready to squash me when suddenly I heard my alarm clock. I looked around, trying to find this marvel. It stood over on my desk as usual. It read : 10:19 and a purple piece of paper stood beside it. It had the funny feeling I knew what that paper said...
© 2003 All rights reserved MJ Jackson
This article may not be reproduced in whole or in part without the permission of the author.
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