My wife used most of a roll of tape on just a few presents. It’s impressive, in a way.
Also, drawing tape is hard.
I’m not sure this short story has any sort of actual point, I just wanted to write something. And it happened to be Tuesday at the time. Make of that what you will.
”God, today fucking sucks,” Walter said, collapsing into his chair at the cafeteria table like the fall of empires.
Molly sat silently for a moment, expecting Walter to elaborate. Clearly, he wanted to say more. You could see it in his face. And though she was curious, she would not give him the satisfaction of asking why.
“Why?” she finally said, despite herself.
“It’s Tuesday, Molly,” Walter replied, as though the answer were self-evident.
Molly pondered this for a moment, probing the statement’s depths and finding them infathomable.
“Okay, I’ll bite: is it this particular Tuesday that sucks, or Tuesdays in general?” she asked.
“Tuesday,” Walter said, with the air of someone about to impart great wisdom, “is the worst day of the week.”
“That seems…well, that just doesn’t make any sense,” Molly said, frowning.
“It’s quite simple,” Walter replied, wagging a finger at her. “Mondays, for all of their horror and frustration, are really not to be feared. Most folks are still too hung over from the weekend to really notice Monday is even happening. We have the afterglow of the weekend to keep us warm on a dreary Monday.”
“I’m not entirely sure I agree with that, but I’ll give it to you for the sake of argument,” Molly said doubtfully. “What about Wednesday?”
“Wednesday is New Comic Day,” Walter replied bluntly, as though no one could possibly not know that. “Thursday, of course, is the day before Friday. There’s anticipation. There’s light at the end of the tunnel. There’s hope.”
“And Friday, of course, is Friday,” Molly finished for him.
“Of course,” Walter said. “Which leaves only Tuesday, that poor, misbegotten naïf with nothing to recommend it. Think of it: every other day has at least something happening. Tuesday is the week’s equivalent of an hour spent in a doctor’s waiting room.”
Molly considered Walter’s assertion. “I still maintain Monday is pretty horrible,” she said tentatively.
“Oh, I’m so sick of everyone going on about Monday!” Walter cried, rising to his feet and startling people around them. Molly scrabbled at his arm, trying to drag him back down into his chair and mentally willing everyone in the cafeteria to look the other way. Walter returned to his seat without appearing to notice. “Monday is a much-maligned day, I tell you, a day with much to be joyful about! Why, it gives you the opportunity to reconnect with comrades, to discuss the events of the weekend and dissect them with excruciating detail among friends and confidants. Monday is the chance to strut back into your place of work or what-have-you and proclaim, loudly, ‘I got laid on Saturday, even with this haircut!’ Monday is the weekend’s victory lap.”
Molly’s brow furrowed, her left eyebrow arching in barely-sustained suspension of disbelief. “Okay, so let’s say Tuesdays are as bad as you say,” she began. “For the sake of argument, we’ll go with that. If your big problem with Tuesday is that it’s got nothing to it, why not give Tuesday some deeper personal meaning? Why does it have to be the ennui of the work week?”
Walter gave Molly a look of mixed sadness and condescension. “Molly, my dear, dear Molly, it does not work that way,” he said pityingly. “One cannot simply ascribe any old meaning to a day and expect it to stick. Reality is not so easily convinced.
“Let us say I were to, as you put it, ‘give Tuesday a deeper personal meaning.’ What then? Will everyone else take up the change? Will Tuesday become a personal day for the whole world? And if it does, how do we benefit? No, Tuesday must remain as it is, unloved and unfulfilling.” He sighed as a Byronic poet might, gazing off longingly into the middle distance. Or possibly he was staring at the pudding, Molly couldn’t be sure.
“Whatever,” Molly replied, giving up on the conversation and gathering her empty lunch things onto her tray. “I’m off for Physics. You coming?”
“What’s the point?” Walter asked somberly. “It’s Tuesday.”
“Well, we’ve got that test today…” Molly said.
“Oh, right,” Walter said, his eyes suddenly refocusing. “Off we go, then.”
So, a little back story.
I grew up in Oklahoma. Spent my early life there, went away to Arkansas for college (a lateral move at best), then back to Oklahoma for grad school. When I finished my Master’s in December of 2004, I was at a bit of a loss for what to do next.
“Come out to Virginia,” my best friend from high school said. “They pay their teachers pretty well.”
It made more sense than sitting around in Oklahoma, where I’d never be able to teach history (they tend to only hire coaches to teach history in Oklahoma because even coaches have to teach in that state, and they’ve all got history degrees for some godawful reason). So I packed up in July of 2005 and headed east.
In between, I’d started communicating with Michelle (my eventual wife) via instant messenger. She’d just gotten out of a long-term relationship. We chatted a lot, and I says glad to know someone else would be around when I moved out to Virginia.
When I arrived, we started hanging out a lot. Michelle recognized from the beginning that we liked each other as more than just friends. I, dolt that I am, didn’t see it. Also, I was still more than a little intimidated by her. I hadn’t really had a girlfriend in college or grad school, and my high school relationships were…well, high school relationships.
So I balked. Eventually, she got frustrated with me and said we couldn’t hang out anymore.
Then we both happened to be at a mutual friend’s party one night in early April. We got talking, hashed things out, and ended the night as a couple, essentially.
I think that brings us up to speed.
The Expendables is a pretty awful movie. The plot makes no sense, events happen one after another without regard for things like coherence or clear narrative, and the whole premise of the thing – all those action heroes of the ’80s – is never really delivered on. On top of all that, it lacks the one-lines you’d expect from a film like this, and the fight scenes ain’t even all that great (and the special effects look pretty bad, especially for such a recently-made film).
Also, everyone looks really leathery and stuff. The entire cast seems to be made of beef jerky.