An Alternative to Happiness

How to be Miserable was released and bombed. Marketing reported only 10 copies sold. How they were even printed let alone sold was still a mystery to Edward since the printing office was filled with “Gone Fishing” signs. Not to mention the bookstores town had systematically started boarding up their doors and replacing the usual “Closed/Open” sign with signs containing everyone’s favorite Tupak Soiree phrase, “Gone Fishing,” written in bold, black Sharpe marker on the back of old pizza boxes (Pizza Hut seemed to be the preferred brand.) It seemed that after What I learned on the Mountain, the general population’s IQ had increased and few people wanted to be unhappy, therefore they decided that a How to be Miserable was not the book for them even if it was written by Tupak Soiree.

Edwin had given up hope that unhappiness would spread and restore the world back to its dull, depressing self. At least Mr. Mead is gone, thought Edward. A while ago, the man in charge of Panderic, Joseph Darrow, had decided to offer Mr. Mead the “option” to retire after almost killing someone who had told him to “Live, love, and learn.” Upon Mr. Mead’s acceptance of early retirement Mr. Darrow decided to offer some helpful advice. “Just hang a gone fishing sign on your door and go to someplace warm,” (Mr. Darrow never did read thoroughly) Mr. Mead’s face became an odd shade of Magenta at this point and his eyes began to bulge, “Remember, Live, love, and learn.” Mr. Darrow finally awoke from his coma left the hospital a few months later.


Edwin was on his way out the door of his new office, formally Mr. Mead’s office, and on his way to the elevator when he heard the familiar thin plaintive squeak of a janitorial cart, an odd event since all janitorial staff had left Panderic long ago. Curiosity getting the best of him, Edwin rushed after the cart. He cut through the silent copy room, out the side hall and past the deserted staff room. Edwin was a flash, a burst of energy, lightning unleashed.

Edwin heard the squeak grown louder and louder as he closed the gap between himself and the mysterious janitor. Then, as he bolted around the corridor he saw a heel just as it disappeared into a freight elevator, its doors closing faster then Edwin could sprint.

Down the stairs and around the corner he flew trying desperately to catch up to the janitor. Down the stairs and around the corner, down the stairs and around the corner, down the stairs and around the corner . . . By the time he reached the eighth floor, Edwin’s head was spinning, his knees had gone wobbly and he couldn’t figure out why it was so important to catch up to the unknown janitor, Edwin only knew that he had to. Edwin walked down to one more landing, then unable to travel down the stairs and around the corner one more time Edwin walked out onto the eighth floor and pushed the down button for the elevator.


As the elevator made its slow decent, Edwin could hear the medieval creak and moan of chain and pulley. Down, down he went into the darkest sub-basements of the building. When the elevator had descended to the very end of its tether Edwin stepped out, walked directly to Waste Management Room #3 and much to his surprise there stood Rory.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Edwin asked in astonishment.

Suddenly Rory lunged out, stabbing Edwin’s right ankle with a sharp fork.

“OW! WHAT THE HELL?” Shouted Edwin, swiftly trying to kick Rory away.


Edwin’s eyes shot open but Rory was no where to be seen, neither was Waste Management Room #3 for that matter. Instead of a dark dreary basement, Edwin found himself in the poorly lit kitchen of his own home. Looking down at his right leg it had 4 pinprick marks of blood on it, spaced much like the claws of a cat. Edwin looked across the room and sure enough there was the cat. It had been flung across the floor and into a wall when Edwin had kicked his leg but the evil feline still had a vengeful look in its eye.

“Fucking cat,” Edwin muttered. He then proceeded to stand up, walk over to the vicious cat and give it a hard kick to remember him by.

Returning to the table, Edwin noticed that is littered with papers (a couple covered in drool) and Swirl magazines. Upon closer inspection Edwin discovered the papers from his own pathetic attempt to write a how-to book. This caused Edwin to scratch his head because he had thrown all of those out long ago.

Then it dawned on him, the light bulb flickered on, and the heavens parted. “It was all a dream,” he whispered, dumbfounded. “It was all a dream…IT WAS ALL A DREAM!” The last statement was shouted at the top of his lungs in jubilation.

“May, there’s still a chance.” Leaving all papers and thoughts of Tupak Soiree behind Edwin made a mad dash for the door.

“What are you shouting about?” Jenni had wondered out of their bedroom but Edward would not let it distract him.

“I’m going out Hun.” And just like that he was out the door, leaving Jenni both literally and figuratively in the dark.


Edwin ran all the way to May’s place, afraid to take time to catch a cab, afraid of missing May and screwing this up again. When May opened the door, Edwin, disregarding all fear and social rules, kissed May’s Crayola lips (a red stain had been left behind after years of wearing the same bold lipstick.) Taken aback May said nothing. Edwin paid no heed to her stunned silence and continued with his mission. Edwin finally said what he always felt but never had the courage to say, and he finally said exactly what May always wanted to hear.


The divorce was finalized two months later and the wedding followed shortly thereafter.