Lee Stetson and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
I was on a case with Beaman last night, and he snored so I didn’t get any rest. When I got out of bed, he was already in the shower. He takes longer than any woman I’ve ever known. Then I accidentally dropped my dress shirt in the sink. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
At breakfast in the hotel lobby, the coffee was stale, and they were out of creamer. Beaman got the last donut. All that was left was frozen waffles.
I think I’ll move to Australia.
In the car on the way back to the Agency, Beaman almost got carsick. I had to slow down to a crawl. That made us hit rush hour traffic and late to the morning staff meeting. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
At the staff meeting the only seats open were in the very front. I had no chance of sneaking in. Then I sat down and my chair squeaked. It sounded like I’d farted. When the week’s assignments were handed out, I got stuck in the Q Bureau, cleaning out old reports. I hate reports. I could tell it was going to be a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I could tell because I got a door ding when I went to lunch, and a speeding ticket on my way back to the office. I went to the drive-through to get a milkshake; the chocolate machine was broken so I had to get vanilla. It was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
That’s what it was, because after lunch I had to track down Augie Swan. He’d said he'd said he had tip for me. When I finally found him, he was at his mud-wrestling bar. I got red jello all over my new shoes. Next week, I said, I’m going to Australia.
When I got outside, some kids were hanging all over my car. I told them to scram. All they did was flip me off. “I am having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.” I told everyone. No one answered.
So then I went to my apartment to change my shoes. There was a new doorman who didn’t want to let me into my own building. The elevator was stuck between floors, so I had to take the stairs. The matchstick that I always put in the door to see if anyone had been there was missing. I drew my gun as I entered, in case anyone was there. My uncle was inside. It was definitely a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
The colonel made me have dinner with him. He took me to a cheap Italian place. The wine there sucked.
By the time I brought the colonel to his hotel, it was too late to run to Arlington and see Amanda.
It has been a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Amanda would say that some days are like that . . . even in Australia.
The End
Story Notes:
Disclaimer: Scarecrow & Mrs. King and all of its characters belong to WB and Shoot The Moon. This story is based on one of my favorite children’s books, Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day, by Judith Viorst. No infringement is intended.