The worst day of Jerry’s life was a Monday in August. It started the same way as any other. The alarm he set on his cellphone went off, he got up, hit the snooze, and then with phone in hand; he went back to bed. The snooze button was then hit ten or fifteen more times, same way it is every morning. It’s never been easy for Jerry to wake up.
Perhaps he wouldn’t have as much trouble if he would go to sleep at a reasonable hour, but whatever. We’re not here to judge Jerry. We’re here to tell his story.
After finally waking up, Jerry grabbed his clothes and headed in to take a shower. He got about two minutes of hot water before it turned to ice.
“FUCKING TANNER,” Jerry screamed, pushing through the cold water to finish his shower.
Tanner is Jerry’s young cousin. See, Tanner likes to take hour and a half long showers, at minimum. Everyone in the house hates it, but unfortunately Jerry and Tanner’s schedules coincide so that Jerry’s morning shower comes not long after Tanner’s. Every day. Every single day.
After suffering through and getting dressed for another long day of work at a local diner, Jerry sat and smoked as much weed as he could in the time he had. He’s always found it easier to deal with the crushing mediocrity of his job title if he’s baked out of his mind.
Good and high, Jerry then stood up and walked out his front door, saying goodbye to his grandparents on the way. Tanner was at school, and his brother and mother were asleep.
Head in the clouds, Jerry then began to walk his unlicensed self to work three blocks away at, “The Sunny Side Diner.” All was going well, as a cool morning breeze made the walk more than pleasant.
It was then that Jerry heard a bark and a growl. Turning, he found a humongous Rottweiler staring him dead on, unencumbered by the usual trappings of being a dog, such as wearing a leash and not being an asshole.
Jerry took off, running as fast as he could, wishing the whole time he hadn’t been so easily seduced by peer pressure and taken up smoking. A burning pain seared through his chest, but Jerry kept running, Hell hound on his trail the whole time. He ran into the first open store he could, only to find it mid-robbery.
“Fuck it,” declared Jerry, right before vomiting all over the floor.
“You ok,” asked the robber, sounding genuinely concerned, weirdly enough.
“I’m fine,” Jerry replied, “Just out of shape. You go ahead. Do your thing, man.”
The robber didn’t need to be told twice.
“Gimme all the fucking money in the register!!”
Unconcerned with the storeowner’s misfortune, Jerry put his face to the window to look for that massive black beast. The coast seemed clear, so Jerry turned back to the robber.
“You mind if I go, man? I’m late for work.”
“Nah dude, go ahead.”
From there, Jerry pushed the door open and sprinted out, never looking back once. By the time he made it work, he was covered in a thick layer of sweat, visible through all layers of his clothing.
“Oh man, that was fucking terrible,” Jerry murmured to himself as he walked through the front door of his workplace.
His manager Hans stopped Jerry as soon as he saw him.
“Jesus Jerry, what happened to you,” asked Hans, a short Spanish man who in no way fits the German terrorist’s name he goes by.
“A fucking Rottweiler. It was loose and chased me.”
“Are you high?”
“Am I high? Maybe on fear, yeah. That was terrifying.”
“Jerry, you can’t work like this. You smell like a dead man’s asshole.”
“Fair enough, Hans. I’ll just go home and shower and come back.”
“You know, honestly, don’t come back.”
“You’re firing me? Seriously?”
“Yeah, I think so.”
“Fine, fuck you!”
Jerry then proceeded to rip off every item of clothing he was required to wear as part of his work uniform and throw it into different areas of the diner. His pants landed in someone’s soup. It was a big thing.
It wasn’t until Jerry walked out the front door that he realized wearing nothing but a t-shirt, boxers, and socks wasn’t exactly conducive to fleeing from that hulking beast of a dog what chased him before.
Growl. Bark. He was back. Of course he was.
Fuck it. Jerry wasn’t going to run. He blew his load on that earlier.
Jerry woke up in the hospital six hours later, covered in bandages meant to help patch up the numerous dog bites he received. His girlfriend Vanessa was sitting in the chair next to his bed. She was crying.
“Why are you crying,” Jerry asked, saddened to see Vanessa crying.
“I feel so bad I have to break up with you in this condition.”
This barely registered with Jerry, due to the intense pain he felt in just about every part of his body.
“Can you raise my morphine and fuck off, please?”
“Jerry, they’re not giving you morphine!”
Jerry’s groan of displeasure was heard three stories up on the children’s cancer ward.
“Did someone just die,” cried one of the children, causing all the others to burst into tears, crying out all the hope they had left inside.
So far Jerry has been chased by a dog, fired, practically eaten alive by that same dog, then broken up with, and now he’s crushed the hearts and souls of a group of terminally ill children. All caught up? Good.
“Can you get a nurse in here, please Vanessa? I need morphine.”
“Did you even hear what I said,” asked Vanessa, no longer crying, “I said I have to break up with you.”
“Yeah, I heard you, I just don’t give a fuck. GET ME SOME FUCKING MORPHINE!”
“Ok, ok, Jesus, I’ll go get you morphine.”
Vanessa left to go do that, and Jerry fell into a fast sleep. Mid-way into a nightmare featuring a certain dog and the chewing of a certain former waiter’s ass, a great feeling of relief came over Jerry, completely transforming his dream.
Suddenly he was floating on a literal cloud and the sun was his best friend. The sun looked exactly like the one on the logo for, “The Sunny Side Diner,” wearing sunglasses and always giving a thumbs up.
“You look stressed, Jerry,” said the sun, “Would you like to smoke some weed?”
“You smoke weed? You’re the coolest, sun. Or should I call you the sun?”
“Nah bro, just call me S-diddy.”
“I’m not doing that.”
“Come on, please? I’m sparking you up on some dope ass bud.”
“All right, fine, I’ll call you S-diddy.”
“Yes, score,” yelled the sun excitedly, before rolling up a gigantic joint.
“How am I supposed to smoke that, S-diddy?”
“I’ll shotgun it into your mouth.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“Dude, trust in S-diddy. I got you.”
With his joint rolled, S-diddy pressed it against himself to light it, and then proceeded to take a gigantic hit and blow it directly at Jerry. The massive cloud of smoke enveloped Jerry completely. When he emerged from within, it was as a different man. All worries of any kind faded into the ether. It was a peace he had never known.
“That’s good shit, right my dude?”
“S-diddy, how did you get so fly?”
“Years of practice, my friend, years of practice.”
“Is there any way I can be as fly as you?”
“Maybe one day. Just, you know, stay in school. Eat your Wheaties. Take your vitamins. Whatever.”
“But I don’t like Wheaties.”
“That’s because Wheaties are fucking gross.”
“See, you get me S-diddy. I feel like we’ve known each other my whole life.”
“Well, we have. I’m the best part of your brain. The cool part. The one that doesn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything.”
“That’s all I have to do to be as cool as you?”
“That, and be a giant ball of burning light. I got that going for me, too.”
“That’s true. I can’t have that.”
“Well no, you’re a human being.”
“I know. It sucks. Sometimes I wish I was dead, S-diddy. I keep thinking about killing myself.”
“Man, suicide is for mark ass busters, not a smooth pimp daddy like you, Jerry.”
“You’re too kind.”
“I mean it. If you weren’t cool, I couldn’t be cool, and I’m pretty fucking cool.”
“That’s nice of you, but being cool doesn’t help. I feel so lost sometimes.”
“So find yourself. When you wake up and they patch you up, go and do some shit that makes you happy.”
“I don’t know what makes me happy.”
“Well figure it out. Stop whining like a little bitch.”
“You always know what to say to make me feel better, S-diddy.”
“What are you talking about, ho? We just met.”
That’s the last thing Jerry remembers before he woke up – three mornings later – with the worst day of his life long behind him. His mother was sitting next to him, waiting patiently for Jerry to awake. She jumped with joy as soon as she saw he had.
“You’re awake,” his mother screamed as she hugged him tight.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be awake?”
“The doctor said one of your arteries were torn when that dog attacked you. They stitched it when you came in, but it opened back up while you were sleeping. They did what they could, but they told me to expect the worst. I knew you’d keep fighting though, I just knew it.”
“Come on mom, you know I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank God,” she said in between sniffles from her crying, “I can’t handle your grandparents without you.”
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