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One Bad Day -*- Copyright 1998 by Ellen Hayes.

Any resemblance between the writings in this work, and any actual
persons or places, living or dead, are purely coincidental, except when
used for satirical purposes.

This work contains adult situations, adult language, adult concepts, and
possibly sex.  If you are legally not allowed to read materials
containing such things, then you will be breaking the law by reading
this.  I am not responsible.
Continuing to read this document, or storing it or reproducing it
in any format means that you explicitly affirm that you are legally
allowed to possess and read such materials in your city, county/parish,
state, and country.

All rights reserved.  See the bottom for distribution rights.


One Bad Day

***


     "Goddamnit," Tom mumbled what was fast becoming the litany of the
day.  "Damn bitch."  Today had been approximately the worst day of his
life, at least as far back as he could remember.
     He fumbled for his room key, wondering for one brief sick moment if
he'd managed to lose that, along with everything else that had happened.
But no, he found it in his pocket after managing to stab himself under a
fingernail with the hypodermic tip of a mechanical pencil.  "Goddammph!"
he informed the universe as he stuck the injured digit in his mouth.
I'll probably get tetanus and die, he figured darkly.
     When he got in front of his door, he sighed, pulled his finger out
of his mouth, and inserted the key in the lock.  It stuck.  Again.
     "Oh, how fucking predictable," he cursed, and shook the key
violently until it turned.  "Shit."
     He opened the door, taking a tiny bit of vengeful pleasure at
bouncing it noisily off the wall, and taking a bit more in slamming it
afterwards.  His roommate Paul was standing in the middle of the room,
looking panicked.  Good, he thought nastily.
     A sliver of conscience prompted him to explain, however.  As he
shoved his clothes off into a heap on the floor, he intoned, "Carol told
me tonight that we should 'start seeing other people', that I was being
'too possessive', whatever the hell that means.  That's after I spent
all night studying the wrong fucking book for lit, and we had not one,
not two, but three fucking pop quizzes today, in calc and physics AND
engineering, and I managed to miss lunch and then spend so much time
talking with Carol about our no longer existing relationship that I miss
dinner except I am too pissed to eat anyway."
     He climbed into his bed, and pulled the covers up to his neck, and
buried himself under the pillow.  A few seconds later, he stuck his head
back out, and called over his shoulder, "And don't wake me up tonight,
because I am not a happy camper."  He fell into an exhausted, annoyed
sleep before he could finish recounting to himself every bad thing that
had happened to him today.

     The next morning, Tom woke up with a raging hunger in his belly,
and a bladder that was giving notice of impending explosion.  He got up
and headed smartly off towards the bathroom, glad that he had slept in
his jeans.  He picked up the pace as he got closer to the bathroom, and
it was a race at the end, but he just barely made it in time.
     As he stared at the tiles on the wall, a thought crawled through
his sleep fogged brain.
     "Was Paul really dressed up like a girl last night?"

***


Distribution:
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means, as long as the entirety of the work (from the BEGIN PGP SIGNED
MESSAGE header to the END PGP SIGNATURE footer) is distributed, and
credit is given to the original author, me.
Archiving is permitted provided no fee is charged for access.

All rights reserved.

"Tallyho!"      \   /     @>--,--'--  ehayes@nym.alias.net  + vicki .sig
Ellen Hayes --=(*)=(*)=-- Renaissance Woman    ==[--------  + virus 9.1a
            http://www.geocities.com/WestHollywood/Heights/5734/


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