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A Day In The Life (standard:Fan Fiction, 1196 words)
Author: Reid LaurenceAdded: Feb 12 2006Views/Reads: 2068/1215Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
A typical hum drum day around the house turns into something peculiar! Read on and find out...
 



“Look at this crap, Mary. I mean, the age of oil is over. When are we
gonna quit suck'in it outta the ground?! It's preposterous already.” 

“Why don't you put the newspaper down and think of something
constructive to do. You know how depressed you get when you read too 
much bad news.” 

“Yeah,” I answered hastily. “But if I don't read it, I'm totally
uninformed. I don't understand what the big deal is anyway. Why can't 
we just run on alcohol from corn? Venezuela does it, and we're the ones 
who're supposed ta be technologically advanced. Tell me how that 
happened, would'ja. I just don't get it.” 

“I don't know Reid. Call the big oil companies and ask them. We've got
our own problems. For one thing, the place is a mess. Why dont'cha help 
me, an clean up the fish tank. The sides are so dirty, the fish can't 
see out of it.” 

“Okay, okay,” I replied grudgingly. And getting up from the living room
sofa, I walked over to our messy fish tank, found the spongy scraper I 
used to clean the glass in the cabinet below and began the task of 
methodically scraping the crud off the glass. “This'll take me 
forever,” I said, realizing how my wife was right, and that the 
newspaper had successfully depressed the hell out of me. I was now, in 
fact, trapped in a mode of complaining which can be difficult for me to 
break out of once I get a good start. “How am I supposed to clean the 
glass, with this monster suck'in the side like this?” I asked, 
complaining over the giant, scaly fish we bought who'd attached himself 
to the glass in a nearly permanent position. Presumably, he was 
supposed to keep the sides of the tank clean. “I don't think this guy's 
do'in the job, do you?” I remarked. 

“Reid, just do it wouild'ja,” replied my wife, Mary. “Move him outta the
way an just do it. I knew the paper would wreck your mood. You can't 
stop complaining now.” 

“Okay, you win,” I said a few minutes later, having completed the task.
“Now what?” 

“Why dont'cha vacuum. The carpets really messy from dog hair an stuff.
Look,” she said, pointing to small clumps of fur scattered around the 
living and dining rooms. “Do what'cha can, while I do the dishes.” So 
in agreement with her - as even a child could see that she had a point 
and little clumps of fur were everywhere - I went to the laundry room, 
retrieved the vacuum and began the task of trying to breathe life back 
into the old rug by going over it with our tired, old vacuum. 

“Damn thing won't suck up fer love or money,” I soon replied, after
having made passes over the clumps of fur again and again, making very 
little progress. 

“Here,” answered Mary. “Let me try.” But after some time had passed -
having made no further progress on the task than I - my wife resolved 
herself to the possibility that the bag might be in need of changing 
and responded by saying...”If you get a bag and change it out, that 
might do the trick. Otherwise, you're gonna have'ta turn it over, take 
it apart an work your magic on it.” 

After about thirty minutes of wrestling with old screws, stuck in
position by time, dust and grime - as we both knew the job wasn't as 
simple as a mere change of bags would imply - I got the old machine 
back in its original mechanical shape and  turned it back on, only to 
find that the lousy thing still wouldn't pick up worth a darn. “This 
thing really sucks Mary! I can't wait ta get rid of it.” 

“I know, I know,” she said. “Look, I'm getting hungry. It's coming up to
dinnertime. Why don't we stop for awhile and decide on what we want.” 

“Best idea you've had all day,” I replied. “How about Italian?” 

“Nah. Too many calories,” answered my wife. “I'm try'in ta drop a few
pounds.” 

“Okay then. How about Chinese?,” I said, trying to think of a low
calorie substitute. 


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