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A- Hole III

"What happened to you?" Larry jibed as I sped by on the workroom floor. "Get hit w/a wrinkle grenande?" I truly looked a mess, not only was my shirt wrinkled but i had on a mixed-matched pair of socks, one a burgundy/grey wool argyle, the other a pale blue hose w/red stripes that i don't remember ever having the match too, let-alone buying, they didn't go w/anything I own. I imagine my wife could've bought them unbeknownst to me, and put them in my drawer, but when would I have had the opportunity to lose its mate?
My socks were severly exposed because I was wearing a wornout pair of my wife's old sweatpants. They were the only thing I could find that would fit. It was as if I gained weight at the exact same time as my wife shrunk all my clothes. Admittedly, I had a little more paunch in recent years than ever before, but certainly not so much as my t-shirts shouldn't cover it?
That wasn't the worst of it. I may have been able to play off like some natural disaster had hit my clothing, but explaining my shoes was going to be another story altogether. It seems that the dog took a sudden foundness to my shoes. He crapped in my dress shoes and ate my tennis shoes, leaving me only a pair of tan deckshoes!
If ever there was a day to throw your hands up in the air and give in to Murphy's Law and call in sick than today was that day! Except I couldn't. The head honchos were coming down from corporate for a one-day walk around before laying out the "New Direction". It was mandatory for all managers to attend.
I walked into the meeting late, hoping I could slip in and stand in the background and hope noone would be able to see anything but my head, but no such luck, Julia saw me. I quickly put a finger to my lips to let her know i didn't want to be noticed, what did i do that for?
"Oh Dick, Eddie's here." She said feigning sweetness. Julia, a self-important divorcee, who was more interested in climbing the corprate later than breathing. God I hate that bitch!
"Don't be shy Eddie, come say hello."
"Hello Mr. Licker, sorry I'm late." Bitch!
"So, this is the 'Goldenboy' I've heard so much about?" Dick Licker gave me the once over like i was yesterday's roadkill, and truly I looked the part.
The room had been arranged in such a way as when i walked in i was facing the head of the table. I walked in in the middle of the chairmans briefing. Everything came to an immediate stop. It was as quiet as a church on Saturday night, until my briefcase busted open spewing its contents all over tbe floor and under the table. I was beyond redfaced, then i heard someone from the back: "What an A-hole!"

I stopped at the bar on the way home for a drink and a smoke. It had been a long and brutal day. It was like i had help; every time i went right i should've gone left, looked left when i should've been lloking right. A bird shit on me while i was wiping dog shit off my deck shoes! I needed a drink bad! I hadn't planned on getting shit faced, but i wanted to climb into a bottle and wash the day away.
I sat at the end of the bar and started w/a beer and a long drag from a Kools. I told the bartender to keep 'em coming. I didn't "technically" lose my job, i was "remanded" to a station more befitting someone of my "abilities". How was i going to explain that to the wife? How was i ever going to get her trust back after this? There was something on ESPN about some multi-million player setting some record, and i could've sworn i saw A-hole shake his hand! The beer wasn't doing the trick fast enough so i added tequilla shots.
I was three sheets to the wind, damn near as shitfaced as i'd ever been. I was on my third shot, and my fourth Kools. I remember mumbling something about "that lucky sonofabitch A-hole got a game ball!" When i say him for the first time: it was a sixfoot tall giant white rabbit, and he was standing right next to me! At first i could only make out his outline when my eyes crossed, then he started buying me drinks. The more i drank the clearer he became. The more out of focus evertthing else became the more in focus he became.
The odd thing is; the more i drank the more sense he made. He made me feel good about myself. It wasn't my fault the dog crapped in my shoes, was it? It wasn't my fault my wife chose today to shrink all my clothes, i don't do the laundry, do i? I couldn't have known the briefcase had a faulty latch on it, i didn't even buy the damn thing! My wife did! I couldn't have known that latch was faulty any more than i could've known that a bird would shit on me while i was standing in dog shit, could i? Man what a day!
That's when I met "him". His name was Horace.

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