AN-The epitome of cheesy fourteen year old humor. Enjoy.

I'd like to introduce you to a young man named Tom. Tom, like most people, is having a hard time and thinks that he’s been dealt the worst possible hand in life. But, unlike most other people, Tom's life actually is having a hard time, and (for those of you who are card players out there) one could say the only card he had left to play was the two of Clubs.

Tom is twenty years old. He’s 6'1, has dark brown eyes, dirty blonde hair, and olive-colored skin. With slightly high-set cheekbones, a strong jaw line, and a mop of untidy ear-length hair, he is altogether very pleasant looking.

Tom dropped out of high school two years ago after being held back as a sophomore twice. He spent a quarter of his savings buying a ten year old Toyota Camry. Still, he managed to find a small three room apartment (one room being the bedroom/living room, one being the kitchen/dining room, one being the bathroom) for $450 a month, which his parents cover. Working at Shop-Rite from 8:00 a.m. to 4:00 p.m. five days a week, then as a pizza delivery boy from 6:00 p.m. to 10:00 p.m. six days a week, he can just barely cover his other expenses.

He led a very calm, balanced life and had recently got himself a six month old Labrador. Tom named her Billie, and although she cost an extra $30-$50 a month and was having trouble figuring out that the kitchen floor was not a toilet, she proved a very good companion.

Regardless of all this, Tom was having a very shitty day.

He had an alarm clock that woke him up at 6:45 every morning, giving him enough time to shower, have coffee, get ready for work, and make the twenty minute drive to Shop-Rite in time to get there by eight and begin the work day.

This morning, Tom awoke at 7:45 to find that Billie had chewed the cord on his alarm clock. Skipping his shower, he ran to his closet and threw on a maroon shirt and black pants, as his dress-code dictated he should wear. He went to the kitchen to grab an apple to serve as some kind of breakfast. Upon entering, he found that Billie had once again failed to distinguish between letting him know that she had to go and waiting for him to take her out, and she had simply relieved herself all over the kitchen floor. Seeing as Tom did not want to have to come home from work and have to clean up, he resolved that he would simply have to be late for work.

Thirty minutes later, Tom came into work over twenty minutes late. This was not good, seeing as they had recently hired a new manager. Tom hadn't seen very much of him, but did not want to start their relationship with coming in to work late. As he began his shift, the new manager, who’s name was Bill, came down and requested that Tom meet him in his office to discuss something important. Tom came in less than a minute and a half later.

What Tom didn't know, but would soon find out, was that Bill is gay. And a pervert. Tom didn't have anything against gay people, or perverted people, but was straight and a gentleman himself.

Bill asked Tom why he was late, and Tom explained honestly and apologetically. Bill offered to overlook it and even give Tom the pay for the work he missed, if Tom did something for Bill. As recently mentioned, Tom is not gay and would not do what Bill asked, but Bill was very persistent. When Tom threatened to report Bill for sexual harassment, Bill announced that Tom was fired and would have to leave immediately.

Unfair as this may have been, Tom had no choice and emptied his work locker and headed home.

On the way home, his cell phone rang, and he answered. It was his father, calling to announce what a failure he thought his son was. He went into deep and intimate detail about how stupid Tom was for not being able to pass his sophomore year. He went into even deeper detail as to what a lazy-ass motherfucker he thought he was, to not even be able to pay his own rent, a mere $450 a month.

Tom thought it wise not to mention that he had recently lost one of his jobs.

Politely thanking his father for his opinion and not-so-politely hanging up in the middle of his father’s sentence, Tom ended the conversation.

Tom thought about how he was going to make up for the lost work. He had seen an advertisement for wanted telemarketers, and the pay was somewhat decent. But telemarketers reminded him of annoying people, people he hated, people he did not want to be. Still, Tom would not pass up an opportunity for money, no matter how annoying it would make him seem.

His phone rang again and he looked at who the caller was.

‘Mom’

He pressed send.

Without a moment’s hesitation, the shrill, high-pitched voice on the other end of the line that Tom knew oh-so well, began bombarding him with big words and statements and quotes about respect for your elders.

Tom took advantage of a moment of silence taken to inhale, and mentioned that he really was not in the mood to speak to his father at the moment, or anyone who did not have something nice to say, for that matter.

The voice took this as an insult, perhaps an implication that it was not being nice, kind, pleasant, or otherwise perfectly polite, and began condemning Tom of having no gratitude, no heart, and on top of it all, no common sense.

Tom sighed. His mother was one that was often referred to as a ‘nagger’, a ‘complainer’, and sometimes a ‘chronic bitcher’. Most often the latter.

Gently reminding his mother that he was trying to drive and did not have the patience, nor the mental stamina to uphold an attentive ear to hear to her invaluable words of wisdom and an attentive eye to the road, he said goodbye and hung up.

Tom turned on the radio.

It’s too late to apologi-hize, it’s too late. Eh, eh, eh.

Tom switched the station.

Put ‘cha sexay on. –Go ‘head be gone ‘wid it- Put ‘cha sexay on. –Go ‘head be gone ‘wid it-Put ‘cha sexay ooonnn-

Tom switched the station again.

MAMA, WE’RE ALL GONNA DIE! MAMA, WE’RE MEANT FOR THE FLIES! AND RIGHT NOW, THEY’RE BUILDING, A COFFIN, YOUR SIZE! MAMA, WE’RE ALL GONNE DI-

Strangers in the night, two lonely people. We were strangers in the night, up to the moment where we said our first ‘hello’-

But then that though grew louder and louder, until it was battle cry. I’ll be there, when you call me. No need to say goodbye.

Tom turned the radio down until Regina Spektor’s voice was just a quiet undertone beneath his thoughts.

He liked her voice. It was intense, yet had an aura of innocence about it. It had a very soothing quality, and he let it fill his mind.

But right at the moment he became relaxed, of course, his phone rang again.

‘Tina’ the bright screen read.

Tina was Tom’s girlfriend, and they had been seeing each other for almost six months. He had met her, embarrassingly, at the check-out in the store. They would often share a joke about how he first ‘checked her out’. She was a nice girl, tall, and very pretty. She was the first blonde that Tom had dated, and ultimately, it had been going very well. They weren’t serious, but he cared about her, and she cared about him.

The voice Tom heard on the other line was barely legible due to the passionate sobbing the filled up the sound waves.

Tom tried to console her, to no avail.

When the voice settled itself, it began a short tale of the happenings of the previous Friday night, about a week ago. It had gone out with it’s girlfriend for some innocent clubbing, it explained. But after one too many ‘Sex On The Beach’s, the voice recalled, it’s sobriety was not completely intact.

The voice went on to retell a short and most likely edited tale of how it had accidentally without thinking not really sure what it was doing had probably had sex with another man.

The voice was responded with silence.

Sensing that it was not going to receive an immediate response, the voice somewhat hesitantly continued on to explain that when it took part in the action of activating a pregnancy test-and Tom hung up for the third time that morning.

Tom was not happy.

Placing his cell phone gingerly on the dashboard, Tom not-so-gingerly threw his head forward and collided with the horn in the middle of his steering wheel. Several times.

When he retracted his head for the fifth time, only then did he notice the red and blue lights flashing in his rearview mirror. This was followed shortly by a piercing siren that seemed to condemn Tom of being a dangerous criminal who must be caught at all costs.

For a moment, Tom genuinely considered putting the ‘pedal to the metal’, so to speak, and trying to outrun the police car. Then, on second thought, it occurred to Tom, in a gargantuan, epiphanic ray of intelligence, that this would raise the shit level from his elbows, to his hairline. Tom, in a very smart move, decided against this action.

Tom pulled his car over to the shoulder shifted into park. He waited patiently for the keeper of the law to take down his license plate, look him up, and discover that he was not, in fact, a dangerous criminal that must be caught at all costs. He was just an average man who happened to be smashing his forehead against his steering wheel as he simultaneously drove by said law keeper.

The self-righteous man exited his official car, emphasizing his importance with a meaningful fling of the door. Tom wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw the man puff out his chest and square his shoulders as he approached Tom’s car.

When asked if he knew why he had been pulled over, Tom replied that he had absolutely no clue. After a rather inhuman grunt and almost a half an hour of waiting for the law keeper to decide the appropriate punishment, Tom drove away with a ticket for two hundred and fifty dollars and zero sense. Beg your pardon, cents.

Continuing on his merry way, Tom decided that he would call Tina and offer his condolences for her misfortunes, but ask her kindly never to speak to him again.

He would also call his mother and tell her that he was sorry if he had been rude or abrupt on the phone earlier, that he loved her, and that he hoped to see her soon.

Tom would then ask her to put her father on the phone and pleasantly explain to him what an asshole he was, and how ridiculing his son and calling him names did not solve either of their problems.

At that point, he would call the board of his store and request an in-store complaint form. With this, he would enter an intricate and detailed explanation of that morning’s happenings and how he would really appreciate his job back, they had no idea.

Then, he would teach Billie how to use a litter box.

Tom sighed heavily and turned the radio up. In an uncharacteristic show of rather old-fashioned taste on his part, Tom began to sing along with Frank Sinatra.

“That’s life! That’s what all the people say. You’re ridin’ high in April, shot down in May. But I know I’m gonna change that tune-When I’m back on top, back on top in June! I said, “That’s life!’…”