Chapter 1
Prologue: A Beginning to a Long String of Disaster
The Ugly Stranger Technique

IN THE BEGINNING, THERE WAS CURTIS. In the rank of intelligence, Curtis is not the highest. As a matter of fact, it could not be said that Curtis approaches the top. Or even, as a matter of fact, that Curtis is as smart as I am, which is even worse. The overall intelligence chart looks a little something like this:

As a result, we end up with this very awkward situation. You see, I, Chris Perry, tend to be the leader of the group. Not intentionally, mind you, it’s just that it always happens that way. Curtis is my right-hand man, in the sense that I tend to hit him with the things I find in my right hand. Most of my adventures take place with Curtis nearby, or remotely connected.

As a way to find happiness, I have selected those six adventures that I feel best represent ways to find happiness, short of my favorite technique, tripping an ugly stranger.

THE UGLY STRANGER TECHNIQUE

The Ugly Stranger Technique (UST) has to do with making yourself feel better. It involves having being in a bad mood and having an ugly stranger nearby. Fortunately, it’s very easy to be in a bad mood and there appears to be no end to the number of ugly strangers nearby.

Note: it is important never to use the UST on a good-looking person. Unlike ugly people, good-looking strangers have posses that follow them and wait for others to attempt to trip said good-looking person

The Ugly Stranger Technique involves, quite simply, tripping an ugly stranger and laughing at their misery. There is not much else to the Ugly Stranger Technique, but it does make one happier.

Although one could easily say that the Ugly Stranger Technique is mean and biased, it is easy to counter that argument. One way to do so is to say that said person is beautiful, and then trip them – demonstrating that the Ugly Stranger Technique can be used on good-looking people you know. However, remember my warning about tripping good-looking people.

But, quite frankly, there aren’t a lot of good-looking people. The great thing about the UST is that it’s hard to find, smart, good-looking people, but amazingly easy to find stupid, ugly people.

I don’t know why that is. I would assume that stupid, ugly people would have a hard time procreating. The only logical explanation is that intelligence is a recessive gene. But most of the stupid people I know have less-than-genius parents.

Which brings me back to Curtis.

In the event that you cannot find an ugly stranger nearby, you can read this book and laugh at Curtis and my misery. Sprinkled majestically throughout are our many tips to achieve happiness and cosmic joy.

All the stories are true, the names of the innocent have been changed to protect them. Then again, when Curtis and I get together, no one is innocent. Everyone ends up guilty some way or another.

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Chapter 2
Redneck Four-Wheeler
Ignorance, Arrogance, & Power

SO CURTIS IS AT MY HOUSE ONE DAY AND WE’RE KIND OF BORED, which tends not to be a good thing. My mom has suggested that we go hiking to the top of the hill. So, Curtis & I head up the hill by way of several people’s back yards. Fortunately, none of my neighbors have good aim.

At the top of the hill, we survey the scene. It’s beautiful up there, with a view of mountains and the town below. The view is breathtaking and it creates an adrenaline rush.

Our heroes chuck a few rocks.

After a while, it becomes clear that the cool, air conditioned house is a better place to be than the top of this mammoth in 80-degree weather, and, of course, we find a path that leads back down the hill. We come out in a little field with two options – go left, go right. I want to go left, exploring onwards into the depths of the pits in the back, but Curtis, evaluating his situation and bladder carefully, decides to go back home The path winds its way through several deep, thick mud puddles and a pile of leaves that looks suspiciously like a dead chicken.

Once we arrive at home, it looks to the common man that our adventures for the day are over. Instead, Curtis looks around and I come up with an idea. We should go four-wheeling.

The thing is, we don’t have a four-wheeler at my house. As a matter of fact, we are pretty luck to have a riding lawnmower.

“Well, why don’t we try using the lawnmower as a four-wheeler?” I suggest.

Right.

Just take a moment to bask in the radiance of my wisdom. That is clearly not the smartest plan. As a matter of fact, that’s probably the stupidest idea I had ever heard. (If you think so, too, wait until you get to the next chapter.)

The first thing we do is clean off our wet, muddy clothes.

Once that hurdle was cleared, we proceeded to move out and check the lawnmower. We just had a few safety questions.

Are there seatbelts?

Back seat?

Front seat?

Gas?

Oil?

Air bag?

Cupholder?

Once we had determined our answers (no, kind of, yes, some, somewhere, no, and we made one with duct tape.) we left.

“I’ve got me a Chrysler, she’s as big as a whale! And she’s about to set sail!”

Curtis sang as my poor, decrepit lawnmower rolled down the hill. The mower moaned and heaved as I dodged the boulders that lay in the road. I saw a side road of to the left marked “DANGER: DEATH” “DO NOT ENTER ON PENALTY OF VERY BAD THINGS,” etc.

I decided that this was the road for us.

We turned down and narrowly avoided being decapitated by several low-hanging wires, intentionally set up to stop stupid people. Like us. But we were not deterred, and continued on down the path.

At this point in time, it became immediately clear that we were not going to come out of this adventure unscathed. And thus, my first point has been reached.

THE UNSCATHED HAPPINESS POSTULATE:

Happiness and safety rarely go hand in hand.

It’s not easy to be happy, say, reading a book. Sure, it’s enjoyable. But few people want to spend their time reading books and expecting some kind of reward. It doesn’t happen. Even an event so simple as riding a bicycle can go drastically wrong as you loose control of the bike and fling your limp body into traffic.

Honestly, I don’t care how you kill yourself, but ultimately it should be doing something fun.

We stopped the lawnmower at the base of the hill. To our left was the path we’d come down from; to the right, a path to somewhere – we didn’t know where. Wisely, we chose that one – the one that could have easily led us into the deep bowels of Hell. Whatever, we thought, we’ve got a lawnmower and some duct tape. We’re all set.

In fact, it lead us to a road.

That road lead us to the bowling alley. We didn’t have any money, though – and then we remembered that it didn’t matter – money doesn’t buy happiness. But it does by lawnmowers.

So we decided to call up our good friend Corey.

I said I was the leader. Well, okay. I’m Moses, and Corey is God. And he came to the rescue, bringing with him his money and knowledge. But it took a minute or two.

CHRIS CALLS COREY

Chris: Corey, can you go to the bowling alley?

Corey: Yeah, sure. You need a ride?

Chris: No, I already got one.

Corey: With who?

Chris: Well, Curtis and I took the lawnmower.

long, awkward silence.

Corey: Be right there.

As soon as he arrived, he understood the gravity of the situation. We had parked the lawnmower in a compact-car parking space near the door. Upon his (His?) arrival, we started the mower back up and drove down the street – yes, drove – in the breakdown lane – to the pizza place. And parked the lawnmower in the parking lot, where we were promptly attacked by rich people who own four-wheelers.

Those poor rich people didn’t understand the joy and happiness we received on our lawnmower. And neither did the policeman who pulled us over.

THE LAW OF IGNORANCE, ARROGANCE, & POWER

As we drove past the police station on the way back to the bowling alley, a policeman left the building, got in his car, drove across the street, turned on his lights, AND PULLED US OVER. Like we were going so fast he couldn’t have walked over and stopped us.

The Law of Ignorance, Arrogance, & Power: People who have power will exert it whenever possible. The policeman – who proceeded to adjust his hat, grab his ticket book, and walk over to us – was simply trying to show his power to us. I don’t know the laws here. It’s possible that the policeman was required to make puff up his chest, beat it with his hands, and say, “I am policeman! Hear me roar!” But for some reason I doubt it. It is more likely that he was the policeman who was trying to make us think he was all-powerful all the while feeling stupider than the President at a cabinet meeting. On occasion, it worries me to think that these people are in charge of our safety.

Ultimately, he warned us that the law said that I couldn’t drive my lawnmower down the street because it wasn’t registered. For some reason, this unnerved me, since I live in Maine. I don’t think that half of the cars in this state are registered, and most of the people live in houses that shouldn’t pass inspections for fire safety, flood protection, or sheer ability to stand on their own without two-by-fours holding them up.

Fortunately, the cop exercised his intelligence and charisma by explaining to us how to get home relatively legally. Unfortunately, Curtis has anti-charisma.