Just Say No!
A Day in the Life of Clive Grincher
By Mike Stevens
'Damn it!' Clive Grincher was p****d! Why couldn’t the moronic sloth-man driving in front of him see that obviously he had places to be, and he was holding him up? He got so angry at the nerve of this guy, he rolled down his window and stuck his fist, with just one finger raised, into the warm air rushing by, and screamed out the open window,
“Hey, moron, let’s go!”
His words seemingly had no effect, so he sped up until he was close to the guy’s bumper, started flashing his lights on and off,
“Move that hunk of s**t!”
Finally, the offending car got the hint, and changed lanes. Sure, Clive could have changed lanes, but why should he have to change anything? It was just another example of the world doing its best to get in his way.
At last, Clive arrived at his place of employment, ‘Dim-Bulb Don’s Moron Shack’, a place that sold gag gifts to people. He said to the slim man with the cheap-looking sports jacket sitting behind the cash register,
“Sorry I’m late again, Don, some idiot was using the road in front of him apparently to contemplate his place in the grand scheme of things. I tried to tell him politely that his place in the grand scheme of things was out of my fricking way!”
He neglected to bring up the fact he had left his apartment late, because the damn coffee maker had chosen this morning as the perfect time to go t**s up, and he’d had to stop at a mini market on his way here. What was it, ‘Let’s Throw as Much Crap in Clive Grincher’s Way, to F**k Up his Whole Life’ Day?
It was almost time to call it a day, and the thought flashed though his mind, 'Okay, it's a day!', and it couldn’t come a minute too soon for him. First of all, the vending machine in the break room was completely sold out of the thing he’d been craving since almost when he’d arrived here, a 'Clerk Bar’ candy bar. Who was the inbred idiot responsible for that screw-up? Then, he’d bought a cup of coffee from the coffee vending machine, and they must be using cheap-a**cups, because the fricking thing had upended, showering him with hot coffee. Now he had to finish out the day looking like he’d taken a massive p**s in his pants! He was so tired of paying the price for someone else’s screw up. Some incompetent idiot had probably saved a few cents on cheap coffee cups, and now he was wearing the result!
Finally, the end of the day, a day spent on the phone, trying to sell chattering teeth to its real-life counterpart. The customers, what a collection of cow-brained morons they were! He almost ran to his car, slid behind the wheel, inserted and turned the key, and,
“click, click, click!”
“Son of a b***h! Not today, of all days! True, he didn’t really have important plans, but s**t, all he wanted was to get away from this place, and now he had a dead battery. 'Are you happy now life?' It was more proof that someone was out to get him. He picked up his cell phone to call for a battery jump, and the words, ‘No service’ glared at him from his phone.
“S**t-o-dear! What next?"
As an answer, it started to rain.
"Thank you! he screamed to the sky.
It was getting dark by the time Clive Grincher’s pickup’s headlights illuminated the parking lot for his apartment building.
'Son of a b***h!' he thought to himself, as his eyes scanned for a parking place. 'Oh, that figures, they’re all full!' he thought, as he searched for an empty slot. He angrily sped through the parking lot, to the auxiliary parking lot that was much further away, and unlighted. Earlier, he’d had to walk a mile already, just so he could get cell phone service to call for a tow truck to come give his dead battery a jumpstart. Then he’d gotten the damn thing started, paid the $50 service call fee ($50! What a rip-off; $50 to spend maybe 30 second hooking up the jumper cables!), and because he needed to get something to cook for dinner, he’d had to leave the car running while he ran in to do his grocery shopping.
'I’m lucky some in-breeder didn’t steal it; that would be my luck!' he thought. His mind was already inside his apartment, cooking the nice steak he had purchased, when it once again started to rain.
'Shit!' he thought, and started to run. It figured, the lot had been full, so he’d had to park 20 miles away. As he was thinking this, he stumbled over an unseen pothole (unseen because of the dark), and the bag he was holding ripped because of the rain. The food he had purchased for dinner when sailing into a huge mud puddle, and quickly disappeared from view.
“Double son of a b***h!” he screamed.
He stood there, dripping water in the monsoon, holding what was left of the tattered bag, and yelled out loud, “Well that’s just great! It’s so fricking late now, because of my fricking dead battery, I may as well skip dinner and turn in; another day in the salt mines again tomorrow!”
He needed a beer, maybe several! He didn’t bother fishing the steaks out of the puddle. He knew he should, but he was drenched, and all he wanted was to get home. He bounded up the stairs to his apartment door, and reached into his pocket for his keys. They weren’t there!
'S**t on toast! I must have left them in the truck', he thought, and angrily stomped back to his truck. If anything, it was raining heavier now than ever, and water ran down his soaked shirt and into his pants. At last he reached his truck. He tried to open the door to grab his keys, but it was locked.
“You p****r!” he screamed at his truck, like it was the truck’s fault. Now what? He glanced through the streaks of rainwater running down the glass, and saw his keys right where he had left them, in the ignition!
© Copyright 2016 Mike Stevens. All rights reserved.