You’ve heard the expression, “Win some, lose some?” Well, in my case it’s, “Win None, Lose Them All.” The latest example came this past week, where my losing streak in life came to a thousand and one. Against my better judgment, I applied for a sales position at a telecommunications company. Mind you, this wasn’t my idea… it was my mother’s. I knew I didn’t have the experience to get the position, but my mother thought my amiable disposition would turn even the most hard-nosed interviewer into silly putty. Sorry, Mom, pleasant manners and a nice smile only get you so far, and for me, it was two minutes with Cruella Deville before she booted my behind out the front door; another “L” on my ledger. This cannot continue.
You see… with my losing streak, unofficially, now at a thousand and one, I feel the time has come to take matters into my own hands. Yes, I’m talking about ending this wretched existence of mine. There’s no point in living. I’ve racked up more losses than Hamilton Burger against Perry Mason. I am so hopeless Dr. Phil offered me a gun to blow my brains out. He knows a woebegone miscreant when he sees one. Instead of her constant nagging my mother could have done the honorable thing and had an abortion. No, she crucified my soul while I was still in the womb. Thanks a lot. Do you get a depraved sense of satisfaction watching me wallow in my own misery? Well, no more, Mommy Dearest. I am about to roll the closing credits on this miserable life and there’s nothing you can do.
Unfortunately, there is someone who could abort my plan… one, Jake Bailey. You see if I was to end my life it would be considered a success, and that word has eluded me my entire life, so why should this be any different. You can go ahead and leave the medicine cabinet open, leave the knives out and hand me a pistol. I can’t kill myself. The misery will continue and I’m going to have to accept the fact I will live to 105… maybe longer.