There are Always Other Fish In the River

The day was typical, at least so it would seem. The sun was beginning to set over the cityscape, and the hot humid day of the early summer was slowly cooling down as the day drew to an end. I was one of the few still left on the beach, taking in each possible minute of sunlight that remained. As I grabbed my shirt and shoes I began to make my way home when my phone rang; it was no longer a typical day… at least not for me; for the unluckiest person in town, however, this was a typical day.

I never really considered the city to be very big, nor was it very confusing. There were farmlands, and suburbs, and a small central core to the city; although it was a city, it was diverse enough to avoid getting lost, at least so I thought. My friend had only recently moved here and was delighted to explore the city. Within a weekend, I had shown my friend the sights and sounds that were worth seeing and hearing, the foods worth tasting, and the places worth visiting. With all that the city had to offer, there was no reason to venture too far away. Within a month or two my comrade was well stocked with friends. One such evening, I was told of an outing; a relaxing evening by the edge of the river with drinks and snacks. I had passed on the opportunity as I already had plans that evening, plans I would learn would be cut short with the sound of my ring tone.

The sky was clear and cooling quickly with the fading sun. My unfortunate friend was somehow left alone along the riverbanks on the outskirts of town; an disastrous miscommunication I was told was at fault. The river ran through the entire city from west to east, although I was not completely certain, I assumed my friend was in the east end of town, where the river grew wider. As the city lights dimmed in the rear view mirror the highway began to merge with the calm river waters. It would be a difficult search, but I would find my friend.

The sun had long set, and there sat my friend and the rocky shores of the river. Alone, and without a sweater I could see my friend was no was not as happy as those back in the heart of the city. My friend lay motionless, in the sand, head back staring at the darkening night sky.

“It took me forever to find you; there is a lot of river to follow.” I said. There was no response. “Well, let’s get you back where you belong.” With that my friend stepped into the car, not a word need be said by the unluckiest person in town.

Coffee For Two

The day was typical, at least so it would seem. The morning laboratory session was a complete disaster, the cafeteria was out of onion rings, and as it has happened every week before, Professor Santos mistook his Tuesday class for his Wednesday class. The lecture hall was buzzing with conversation as my classmates waited for the professor to arrive. My friend and I sat in the front row waiting patiently, discussing the poor performance of the Maple Leafs from the night before. As always, Professor Santos came running in briefcase flying, and coffee in hand; only 9 minutes late this afternoon. Perhaps my watch was slow, perhaps the professor is getting more timely, whatever it was, something was different; it was no longer a typical day… at least not for me; for the unluckiest person in town, however, this was a typical day.

Professor Santos began scurrying down the stairs towards his podium. “I’m sorry, I’m Sorry. I swear, one of these days I will actually get here on time.”

The professor began to sort his papers and the class started to settle down. From the front row I could still hear the ‘Milton Twins’ and company discussing their rowdy weekend adventures.

“Did anyone get up to anything exciting this weekend?” the professor asked?
The class fell silent, as each student looked back at their weekend, analyzing every moment to see if anything was worth presenting. Myself, I was still distracted by the conversation occurring four, maybe five rows behind me.
“… I just can’t believe I waited song long before I let him do that to me”, it was one of the Miltons
“Do what to you Miss Milton?” Professor Santos asked.
“… Oh my god! Umm… forget I even said that.”
Her face grew a bright red, as the class focused solely on her, each leaning forward to hear more of her dirty gossip.
“What’s wrong Miss Milton, fill us in, I’m sure everyone is as curious as I am now.”
The class’s ears perked up, waiting in anticipation.
The professor put his foot up against the armrest of the empty chair next to my luckless friend, leaning forward, his coffee in hand. He took a small sip of his drink and continued, “Please, fill each one of us.”
“Ha, that’s what she said!” A voice cried out from the back of the class.
The room fell silent once again, not knowing what to make of the immature comment. The professor froze, with his coffee cup to his lips. Slowly his cheeks began to grow, like a propane tank in a fire, the pressure was too much; he was going to blow. The hot coffee spurted from the mouth of the professor as his laughter echoed through the lecture hall. The class would be quick to follow, laughing at both the comment, and at the professor who was now lying on the floor, laughing uncontrollably. All were laughing, all expect for my ill-fated friend, who too was on the floor, however, not with laugher, but with pain as the searing coffee began to burn the flesh. Eyelids blistered and bruised, forehead swollen and red, and cheeks lightly rashed. The burns would turn out to be minor, however as I walked down the corridor on the way to the campus clinic, my friend in my arms, I realized one thing: we never did find out what happened to Miss Milton. Some people have all the luck.

Even the Kitchen Sink

The day was typical, at least so it would seem. The sky was overcast, the breeze cold, the temperatures frigid; it was seemingly a typical winter day. The coffee shop was full, as it always is at this time of the day. Waiting in line to order my lunch, I weighed the options in my head; black forest ham, or BLT? My phone rings; it was no longer a typical day… at least not for me; for the unluckiest person in town, however, this was a typical day.

I arrived at the client to see my unfortunate friend. A nurse showed me to the correct room where I found my fateful comrade receiving stitches above the left eye. Looking at the equipment on the sterilization tray, I could see that the doctor had been sewing for quite some time.

“How bad is it this time doc?” I asked.
“Well we got lucky today. Eleven stitches above the eye, three more on the left cheek, nineteen on the right hand; thirty-three in all.”
I pushed the air out of my lungs and wiped my brow.
“Could be worse.” I threw in.
“It has been worse.”

And the doctor was right, it had been worse… much worse. Despite the barrage of stitches, this was only a minor scratch in ever growing medical records of the unluckiest person in town.

I took a deep breath and braced myself, “What happened this time?”
“Kitchen sink exploded” The doctor replied
A stupid grim swept over the face of clumsy counter-part.
“What?”
“You heard me correctly; a sink exploded. The gash above the eye is from a piece of the faucet, the cheek was a shard of glass from a tea cup, and the hand… well thankfully it was used to block the dinner plate.”
The smile grew yet somehow stupider.
“Well, thankfully everyone is okay… well reasonably”
“Two to three weeks, your friend will be back to normal”
“Thanks doc, see you soon”
“Hopefully not”

I walked out of the client and started me car. With the engine lightly humming, I drifted away into thought, wondering how one person could be so unfortunate. I suppose one can be thankful, better that it wasn’t me. The passenger door flung open as my comrade hopped into the vehicle.
“Come on you goof, lets get you home.”