jwalkernet

"Not that I expected anything different...."

I call myself a pessimist. And I am, as anyone who knows me will certainly agree. I have an unique ability to see the dark cloud within every silver lining. I don't like it, but it's the truth. I'm exactly like Eeyore, except I'm not a donkey, or purple, or homeless. Nor do I have a removable tail. But you see the point. In fact, at my old job, I was frequently referred to as "Eeyore," and several items featuring the character were giving to me as gifts.

But beneath this harsh, dreary exterior, there's an optimist, hiding way down deep inside (I'd call it my inner child, but I was pretty pessimistic as a child, too). And that optimist loves nothing more than positive things to happen, if only to shut Eeyore up for a little while.

The only problem: when I'm in a good mood (as I am at the moment), the dominant Eeyore mindset has no idea what to do, and I turn to an emptyheaded idiot. I'm lucky to be forming coherant sentences at this point.

My day at work was surprisingly painless, and even enjoyable at times. I was making pretty good tips, I wasn't overburnded with a ridiculous number of deliveries, and the weather wasn't bad. I had good music on the radio, flipping between the score from Magnolia and Coldplay's A Rush of Blood to the Head. I felt myself coming into a good mood as the music played and the hours flew by.

My final delivery was to a neighborhood I'm not usually big on going to. It's near the junior high. It's not exactly a ritzy area, and tips aren't very good there. But it was my last delivery, and then I could go home, so I was still somewhat pleased.

I knocked on the door. While I waited for an answer, I heard a dog barking behind me. I turned to look for the dog, but saw none. As I looked, the door opened behind me. I turned back, and said, "Hello ----"

The girl who answered the door was very attractive. She was short, early twenties, with long blonde hair.

And no clothes.

I consider myself to be an intellectual person. I do, really. I'd like to think that this image wouldn't effect me. But there she was, totally nude, and Eeyore just said, "Fuck it." My brain completely shut off.

I think I somehow managed to convey the amount she owed me. She handed over the cash (which I think was enough to cover it; I didn't count), and said, "Tell all the people you work with, the faster you get here, and the more breadsticks you bring, the more we" ...She motioned toward another girl (fully clothed) on the couch... "take off." I nodded and promised to deliver the message.

I realize how ridiculous it sounds. I'm not entirely sure it actually happened, to tell you the truth. It sounds like the stuff out of bad erotic fiction, like Logjammin'. Eeyore would like nothing more than for me to wake up in a hospital tomorrow morning, discovering that I had been in a terrible car accident, and the previous twenty-four hours were no more than a dream.

But until then, I'll just stay an idiot.