'Cause You Had a Bad Day: A Short Story

You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You're faking a smile with the coffee to go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces every time
And I don't need no carryin' on

Cause you had a bad day..."(Daniel Powter - Bad day http://www.danielpowter.com/)

It's a good day today. Naturally. This thing is so relative, though, that the dwarf that appears when you kiss me for example, and candidly tells me that it's actually too hot and none of us feels like kissing. But we successfully pretend to enjoy it, that dwarf, as I was saying, jumps up immediately: Huh? A good day to plant tomatoes? Nooo, of course not, and I ignore him in the following second, concentrated as I am to show you how smart, beautiful and romantic I am, in good proportions, well distributed, not embellished, in a not-too-short, not-too-long, answer to your e-mail.

Then maybe it's a good day to jump with the parachute? Again? Are you finished yet? It's a good day and that's it, he is right, let's not spoil it. But of course, you can go jump with or without what you wish. Spare me!

Mnooo... the dwarf is still a dwarf, and especially... it's my dwarf: Then maybe it's a good day for making love!

I take a look at him (that's just a way of saying it, I hope you don't think I actually see dwarfs!) and I ask myself if there are any chances that he is quite more nutty than I am. Than I get it: he's making fun of me. Hey you brains, stop cajoling me, I'm working now.

He snickers Yes, but you're doing your best not to upset him and to show him that, buried as you are under your papers, your thought is still at him!

Sometimes I feel this dwarf is too much for me. Of course, my tone changes immediately in the e-mail as well; I become more sober, the balance leans back. I suddenly feel the urge to wash my hands like after handling something sticky. But I don't answer him.

It's a good day to run after moneeeeey! Now you're talking! If I think about that, for sure I'll stop feeling that this day is just crawling.

He's silent now. He's seen me straightening my spine and starting to play cool, changing the subject. So I hope he's done. After all, he only comes up when I develop the tendency to get mushy and I start looking at the pink color without throwing up.

And here he comes again, Machiavellianly as I should have remembered he is, striking in full:

It'sa good day to die. It's a good day to say good bye to your lover. It's a good day, after all. The only important thing is that you realize exactly what is it good for!

I want to ask him with whom did his mother have him that he's so smart, but that would be such a rhetorical question that I myself might feel dizzy. The next moment I open my mouth to curse him. That proves as complicated as well, given the short and shy repertoire that I have in the area. All these maneuvers do give me some time to reflect. A good day to die, you say. Actually, they say any day is as good as the others for this crap. You meant to say something smart here, and I don't get it. It's the second part that worries me, though...

Maybe you are right, it's a good day to begin dying.

Lover?! What lover?!!

I forgot to mention this, my dwarf goes really astray sometimes, I do believe he plays around and sometimes he mixes us up...