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Better 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.


Better Day


***

     Tom staggered back to his room, not fully recovered from the events
of the day before, but feeling better about it.  On the other hand, he
had two exceptionally expensive concert tickets, and no damn date to go
with.  Every, EVERY single girl he had talked to, was busy or dating
someone or otherwise unable or unwilling to accompany him.
     Tom was beginning to think it was a conspiracy.
     The couple or five beers he'd sucked down in Chuck's room had
mellowed him quite a bit, however; so much so, in fact, that he was
merely peeved instead of psychotic.  He thought this was a good thing.
     "Paul has to know someone, I mean, he does that math tutoring, he
has to know at least a couple girls, right?" he asked himself
rhetorically.  Sure, he thought.  No problem.
     He jiggled the lock and opened the door to his room, and shut the
door behind him before he realized Paul was home.  Again.  Tom looked
up.
     There was a long pause as the two of them stared at each other.
     "Ahhh... weren't you doing that last night?" he inquired, pointing
at the rather daringly cut black dress that Paul was wearing, and trying
to hide with his hands.  It's not that small a dress, dummy, he thought
to himself.  He had a lot of makeup on too, Tom noted dimly.
     Paul took a deep breath.  "Ahhhhhhh.... yeah.  I, uh, I thought you
were going to a concert tonight?"
     Tom stood up, pissed all over again.  "And who," he started as he
began to pace, "am I supposed to go with, since that bitch Carol decided
we should 'see other people' last night, and then went and called every
girl around and told them not to go out with me tonight?  I ask you!" he
snarled, whipping around.
     "Ahhh, well, um."  Paul stopped, at a loss for words.
     An idea formed in Tom's head.
     "Hey," he said, plopping back down on the bed.  "You wanna go?
You're already dressed for it, and we could grab something to eat before
it starts."
     Paul looked completely stunned.  "What?  Like, like this?!"  He
indicated the dress he was wearing.
     Tom shrugged as he leaned back.  "Sure.  You look better than Carol
did, that's fer sure.  That bitch..."  He sighed.  "You got nice legs.
Carol had these fat stumpy cellulite things."  Tom was amazed he hadn't
noticed Carol's flaws before now.
     "You want me to go to a concert dressed like this?" Paul confirmed.
     "Are you deaf or something?  Why the hell not?  I mean, do you have
any place to go tonight?  Do you?"  Paul shook his head.  "Well, I spent
three fucking hours in line for these fucking tickets, and I do not want
to let them go to waste, and, shit, you're already dressed for it,
unlike any girls I can find at this hour, assuming that Carol hasn't
called them too, that bitch-"  Tom took a deep breath, and let it out.
     "Uh," Paul said, and looked uncertain.  Come to think of it, Tom
thought, he looks a lot like Cindy did, back in high school, when he
does that.
     "Come on," Tom urged.  "I'll even pay for dinner."
     With a dazed look, Paul said, "Uh, sure, why not?"
     "Great!"  Tom stood up again.  "Get your purse and shit, and let's,
oh hey," he mentioned as he thought of something.  "Mind if I call you
Paula tonight?  Paul would sound a little..."  He waved his hand to show
that it would sound a little too queer for comfort.
     "That'd be great," Paul now Paula said.
     "Great.  Whatcha wanna eat?  You on a diet or something, please
tell me no because I am starved."  Tom opened the door, and waved Paula
out of the room before he locked it.  He offered her his arm, and she
took it.

***


Distribution:
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Permission is given to redistribute this by electronic
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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