Cheerful despite it all

I fully intended to spend the day in a goddamn bad mood, I truly did, but sometimes things just don't work out quite the way a feller wants them to. Sometimes stuff goes wrong, even simple things like waking up in a mean-tempered cussin' kind of mood.

I don't reckon this'll make any sense to most of y'all, but on some days- and it ain't often, so don't think I'm askin' for much- some days I just want to be pissed-off. I want to wake up angry and I don't particularly go lookin' to get cheered up, if you see what I'm sayin'.

You might think: "well shit, how hard is that to do? This world ain't nothing but a winking stinkhole and if it wasn't for the rainbows and unicorns in my medicine cabinet I'd be exercising my 2nd Amendment rights until someone stopped me or I ran out of ammo. What's so damned special 'bout bein' mad as hell?"

Well, what makes it special for me is I failed at it and I'm the kind of guy who just don't sit too comfortable with failure. I wish I could say that the reason I don't sit so well with failin' is on account of being accustomed to success, but I can't rightly say that. I just ain't fond of failing , is all I can say.

So anyway, I'm waiting for the bus this morning, just enjoying the sun and reading a book like I always do, and a nice old lady carrying a umbrella starts asking me questions about the bus service.

Now, me and the old lady both know that there ain't a goddamn bit of sense in talking about the bus since there ain't nothin' you can do but wait no matter how much talking gets done, but she just wants to talk because she didn't think to bring a book. It's a sunny day and she's carrying an umbrella , so I speculate to myself that this lady isn't so hot in the thinking department. I'm too much a gentleman to tell her that ,though.

"It'll be here soon," is what I say, which is true, even if I don't exactly know what minute it'll arrive.

She starts describing the weather conditions to me, like we are talking on the phone and I'm somewhere else, somewhere that's always dark and wet and I don't have a fucking clue in my clammy heart what a blue sky looks like. Which is kinda true, but she doesn't know that.

It is beautiful.
I agree with her and keep reading.

In the book, Marvin Molar has snapped. He's tied a rope to the boat's wheel and grabbed a hatchet.

"Oh, what a nice cat", says my wrinkly new pal, pointing across the street. "Here kitty! Here kitty!"

What I feel like saying is :" Lady, that's my fucking cat and it's the second dumbest animal on this planet and if it even thinks you are calling it, it'll probably run over here and get flattened by the goddamn bus we were just talking about. The shock of seeing it will probably kill you and if it doesn't , I might."

"He's a sweetie," is what I say, but I send a look at my cat that says: "Get near the kerb and I'm gonna spank you with a broom." He gets the message and slinks off.

Meanwhile, Marvin has walked in on Hester while she's fucking the Greek. I feel Marvin's anger rising from the pages- its much hotter than mine- and I'm almost envious of the purity of Marvin's rage. Almost.

"Is this the downtown bus?"

"Yes. Right on time."

I don't know if it's on time or not, but I'm trying to be reassuring. All hell is about to break loose in my book and I don't want the old lady to be spooked any more than she has to be, which is sayin' not spooked at all.

The lady boards the bus and hands the driver a twenty. I don't have to be a mind-reader to figure out what he's thinking. He's thinking: "This isn't a fucking taxi."

I'm on the steps below her and I'm thinking that I've got my nose about eighteen inches from a pair of adult diapers. I'm so convinced of this thought that I feel safe in calling it knowledge, which isn't always as great a thing as it's cracked up to be.

But I don't say that. Instead I swipe my bus pass through the meter a second time and smile at both her and the driver.
Such a nice young man.
Everyone smiles back at me. The whole bus is smiling.

In the book, Hester is smiling too. Marvin hits her in the mouth with the hatchet.


It cheers me up and makes me fail at being pissed-off, which would make me angry if I wasn't in such a good mood.

Marvin spins on a fingertip and waits for the Coast Guard.

I go to work and wait for five o'clock.