The Wisdom of Making Your Bed

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When Katie married Clayton, one of the first things she learned about him was his habit of making the bed. It was the very first thing he did after he woke in the morning. On days when he was up first, he’d wait until Katie got up and he’d go in and tidy the sheets.

One morning, after completing his morning ritual, Clayton joined Katie in the kitchen. She handed him a coffee with a smile and said, “I didn’t know your mom raised you so well.”

“What do you mean?” asked Clayton.

“Making the bed every day. It’s cute,” said Katie.

Clayton shrugged. “That wasn’t mom. I did that on my own.”

“Really? Why?”

“It’s the first accomplishment of the day. It’s starting the day on a positive note, a foundation for the rest of my schedule,” he explained.

Katie thought about it as she took a sip of her coffee. “Never thought about it that way before.”

“If my day turns out bad, at least I can come home to a well made bed. It’s a comfort, like a reassurance that the next day might be better.”

“That’s strangely well thought out,” said Katie. She wrapped her arms around her husband. “Who knew I married such a wise man?”

“We wise folk are notoriously poor self-promoters,” said Clayton. “It goes against the code.”

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Imaginary Friends

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“Have you ever stopped to think the best days of your life are behind you?” asked Alex. He was staring deeply into his coffee.

“Not until now,” said Roger.

“Are you trying to be a wet blanket? Wow,” added Eddie.

“I think you might be depressed,” said Roger.

“That’s not what I’m trying to do,” objected Alex, “And I’m not depressed. I’m using this as motivation. You know, not rest on my laurels.”

“You have laurels?” asked Roger.

“Yeah. What have you accomplished?” asked Eddie.

“That’s my point exactly. I’m pushing myself to do something worthy of remembrance,” said Alex.

“Like what?” asked Eddie.

Alex swirled what little coffee was left in his cup. “I want a title.”

“You want to be Sir Alex?” asked Roger.

“Why not?” asked Alex.

“Isn’t that kinda puttin’ the cart before the horse?” asked Roger.

“It’s like, they give those to people who’ve already accomplished something,” said Eddie.

“It’s not an accomplishment in itself,” explained Roger.

“All that’s completely ignoring the fact you’re not British,” said Eddie.

Alex stared at his friends in disbelief. “You guys suck, you know that? Real friends would support a guy, not stomp all over his dreams.”

“Maybe if we were the kind of friends who didn’t live in reality,” said Roger.

“Like imaginary friends. They support you no matter how unrealistic your dreams are,” added Eddie.

Alex slouched in his chair. “Maybe I should just have imaginary friends.”

“What do you mean? We are imaginary,” said Eddie.

“Yeah. We only pretend to be your friend,” said Roger.

The two smiled at each other and turned to Alex. A grin slowly spread across his face until all three were laughing.

“You guys still suck,” said Alex.

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Extra Crispy

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Bert was getting a ride in Oliver’s new super duty Ford pick up truck when they came upon a red light. They were second in line behind a tiny Toyota. The headlights of the jacked up Ford nearly reached the roof line of the subcompact car.

“Wanna see something funny?” asked Oliver.

“I’m game,” replied Bert.

Oliver leaned on the horn and waved angrily at the Toyota.

“What’re you doing?” asked Bert.

“Watch,” said Oliver.

Bert noticed the driver ahead shift nervously as the honking continued. At one point, Oliver leaned out his window and yelled at the car, telling it to get moving. His words were peppered with a copious number of expletives.

“This is nuts,” commented Bert.

The driver was at his wits end as the assault continued. He stomped on the gas into the intersection against the red light. He made it half way when he was t-boned by a minivan. Bert was horrified by the spectacle.

Oliver laughed as the light turned green and the wove his way through the carnage. “How awesome was that?” he asked.

Bert shook his head. “When God sends you to hell, its gonna be the extra crispy section.”

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What Do You Love About Me?

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The unexpected downpour in July sucked the joy from Alicia’s summer. “Not again.”

Ben came up and slipped his arm around her waist. “It certainly makes everything look greener.”

Alicia thought how misery loves company only if it’s just as miserable. “The rain makes me feel cold.”

“It’s been the best year for raspberries we’ve ever had,” replied Ben.

“Do you always have to look on the bright side of everything?” complained Alicia.

“I thought that’s what you loved about me,” replied Ben.

Instead of a reply, Alicia nestled in Ben’s arms. After a few moments of watching the rain, she asked, “What do you love about me?”

“Everything,” replied Ben.

His answer was greeted with an elbow into his stomach. “That’s not an answer.”

“Sure it is.”

“I want something more specific,” said Alicia. “And not something obvious.”

“What would be obvious?”

“Like, that I’m sexy.”

“I wasn’t gonna say that,” said Ben.

Alicia pulled away from his grasp. “What do you mean by that?”

“Exactly what you said. I knew you wouldn’t believe that anyway,” said Ben.

“I wouldn’t, would I?” accused Alicia.

“No. You’re far to hard on yourself about your looks. It’s weird,” said Ben.

“I’m weird now?”

A smile spread across Ben’s lips. “Since you brought it up…”

“That’s not funny,” grumbled Alicia.

“You’d have to be weird to be with me,” said Ben.

Alicia glared back at him. “Good save.”

“That’s what you love about me,” said Ben.

“Uh huh,” grunted Alicia. “You still haven’t said what you love about me.”

“It’s really very easy. You have extraordinarily good taste,” said Ben.

Alicia elbowed him again. “You’re a jerk,” she said with a coy smile.

“But at least I’m lovable.”

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Slip of the Tongue

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Tamara tossed a bill across the table in frustration. “I can’t stand this. Why is it so hard to make ends meet?”

Lance shuffled to the table, eating an apple and rolling his eyes.

“We gotta cut costs,” said Tamara. She shot Lance an accusing glare.

“Don’t look at me. All I get are necessities,” shrugged Lance.

Tamara choked. “Are you serious? How much to you spend on comics in a month? What about your sleeve tattoo? And don’t get me started about your record collection. Who even uses vinyl anymore?”

“It’s retro.”

“Retro my- ,“ she stopped short, but her words still cut Lance.

“Oh yeah? What about your gym membership? It’s not like it’s making a difference.” Lance’s eyes went large. He tried to suck the words back into his mouth, but it was far too late.

Tears welled up in Tamara’s eyes. “How could you,” she demanded.

“You made me mad. I didn’t mean it,” said Lance.

Tamara got to her feet and slapped Lance across the face. He staggered back and grabbed his cheek.

“I deserved that,” admitted Lance

“I meant it,” replied Tamara.

“You know, violence is not going to fix our financial problems,” quipped Lance.

“True,” admitted Tamara.

“So what’s the plan?”

Tamara thought for a second. “I have to say this little conversation’s been eye opening.”

“Really? How so?”

“Not only are you a huge financial burden, you’re a thoughtless jerk,” said Tamara.

“A lovable jerk, right?” asked Lance.

“Not any more. Pack your bags. We’re done,” demanded Tamara.

“Wait. Don’t be so emotional. What’ll you do without me?”

Tamara smiled knowingly. “Good questions. First, I’ll have more money. Second, I won’t have to deal with someone who doesn’t love me for me.”

“I said I was sorry,” interrupted Lance.

He flinched when she raised her hand to silence him.” Actually, you didn’t. And judging by your reaction, I certainly can’t use you to protect me.”

“So that’s it, then,” said Lance.

“Yep.”

“You’ll get lonely,” warned Lance.

Tamara shook her head. “I’ll get a dog. At least it’ll be more useful.”

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Good Intentions

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Neil was genuinely annoyed that he was forced to go to the park on a sunny Saturday afternoon. He’d rather be sitting on his couch at home, binge watching Netflix.

“Wow, you made it,” said Amy.

“This better be worth it,” replied Neil.

“It is. I promise,” winked Amy.

Neil knew he was being manipulated, but for Amy, he didn’t mind. “Okay. What’s up?”

Amy smiled. “You know there are a lot of soup kitchens for the homeless, right?”

“I guess.”

“I wanted to give back to society, but I wanted to do something extra special,” explained Amy.

Neil raised an eyebrow. “Where is this going?”

“Homeless people need a place to clean up, so,” said Amy. She grabbed Neil’s hand and led him down a path to the centre of the park. They came around a bend in view of the park fountain.

“What the-“ stammered Neil.

The fountain was filled with naked homeless people and overflowing with soap suds.

“It’s a giant bubble bath,” giggled Amy.

“You did this?”

“Yes. Isn’t it amazing?” replied Amy.

Neil noticed several police officers at the far end of the fountain. “You are going to get so arrested,” he said.

“What? No,” said Amy. She left Neil behind and ran to the police.

Neil watched Amy explain herself using animated gesticulations. A female officer forced her to the ground and placed her in handcuffs. From the ground Amy looked at Neil in desperation.

“I’ll meet you at the police station,” he yelled as they dragged her away. A smile spread across his face. He wasn’t about to let the opportunity to be her hero slip past.

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Every Day Carry

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Fred was hard at work when he was disrupted by the sound of tinkling metal followed by someone yell, “Ah crap!” He looked over the half wall of his cubicle to investigate. Brandy and Mitch were on their hands and knees under a desk frantically searching for something.

“What’s wrong?” asked Fred.

“It’s my glasses. I dropped a screw that held my lens in place,” said Mitch.

“I got this,” said Fred. He joined the search by pulling out a finger sized flashlight and illuminating the area under the desk. The effect was immediate.

“Here it is,” exclaimed Brandy as she picked up the tiny screw.

Admiring the flashlight, Mitch asked, “That’s amazing. Where’d you get that?”

“I always have it. It’s part of my EDC,” bragged Fred.

“You carry a flashlight for your erectile disfunction condition?” asked Brandy.

Fred’s faced glowed red as Mitch guffawed.

“Every day carry,” whispered Fred.

“That makes more sense,” replied Brandy.

“That’s not a thing,” added Mitch.

“It is so. People spend lots of time developing their EDC. You’d be surprised,” retorted Fred.

“Is that along with your Viagra?” asked Mitch.

Fred shot him a hateful stare.

“Ignore him. I want to know more about your weird little hobby,” said Brandy.

“It’s not a weird. It’s important to always be prepared,” explained Fred.

“Are you some kind of prepper?” asked Mitch.

Fred shook his head. “It’s something everybody does without thinking about it.”

“Like urban survival,” said Mitch.

“Kinda.”

“Still sounds odd to me,” said Brandy.

Fred frowned. “That’s funny coming from someone who benefited from my every day carry.”

Brandy laughed. “I’m just teasing. You’re too sensitive.”

“He’s probably upset about his erectile disfunction,” added Mitch.

Fred blushed and returned to his cubicle. “You’ll be sorry when the zombie apocalypse comes,” he whispered.

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