by T.C Leonard

Created on: August 02, 2008

Last night I got up off of my couch and drove to the local Sheetz. I picked up a half-dozen vanilla iced lattes, and the cashier looked at me like I was crazy. I think she's right. That was last night. This morning I'm watching the History Channel, and I'm on my third latte. Somewhere in between the second and third, I crunched my way through a gobstopper. I have enough sugar in my system to sweeten the Atlantic Ocean. Without provocation, I mumble words that I have heard myself say a thousand times...

"Why me? Why me?! Why do I have to go to that place today?"

I've been rocked out of my sugar buzz by a voice. It was my voice. Should've known. There's nobody else in the room. I guess I'm starting into my second childhood. I've become addicted to a cartoon they're running on History...something called "Liberty's Kids." I have to be at work the same time that the show ends, so I've never seen an entire episode. BUT I'm learning all about the American Revolution. Maybe I should buy a book...

"Maybe you should get moving!" my rational side screams. "You have to be THERE in five minutes!"

It's a three minute ride to work, unless the Dunkin Donuts next door is crowded. Sometimes one of their customers gets in my way and it causes me to be late for work. Anyway, as I arrive at the door, one of my co-workers walks in with me...

"I thought about calling in sick today," he says. "I held the phone in my hand for ten minutes and thought about dialing the number."

Hmmm...they want us to call in an hour before our starting time, and I'm never up that early. If I could wake up in time, I would call in sick every day. I'd be unemployed, but I could have seen how that cartoon about Benedict Arnold and Horatio Gates ended. As we near the timeclock, my wordy friend continues...

"Why do we do this? The supervisor is going to tell us how much we all sucked yesterday, and it's going to be damn near 100 degrees outside. I hate this place!"

It's no secret; I hate that hellhole as much as anybody. There has to be something better-anything. I drift off and think about my own gig. This time it's a hotdog stand on Maui. In my daydream, I'm dressed in a tattered multi-colored shirt emblazoned with pictures of pineapples and surfers. I have a cot in the back of my hut, and the Beach Boys' "Sloop John B" is playing on the radio. Obviously, I'm not getting rich selling hotdogs, but I look happy.

"T.C! T.C! Are you awake?"

I managed to miss the entire "YOU SUCK" speech during my mental voyage to the

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>