A Day in the Life of…

Fuck. It’s morning already? What time is it?

5:00, I think.

Why am I awake at 5:00, I fell asleep at midnight? Maybe I can just go back to sleep.

You can’t go back to sleep. I’m up and I’m thinking.

I’ll try to go back to sleep.

You’re not going to sleep. Just get up. You have to pee anyway.

I can go back to sleep.

Get up. You have things to do.

Maybe if I stay in bed, other people will do those things.

Then you’ll get fired, your wife will be angry, and you’ll end up homeless.

Jesus Christ, fine. I’ll get out of bed.

The dogs want food.

Everyone wants something. Okay, they’re fed. I’ve peed. I’m going back to bed.

You won’t fall asleep again.

Maybe I’ll take a sleeping pill.

It’s 5:40, you’ll oversleep.

I’m just going to go lie down and try.

You’ll oversleep, the kids will be late and you’ll be fired.

Why would they fire me? It’s not like I’m late all the time.

You don’t deserve this job. You’re not good enough. They’ll fire you. Just keep going and hope they don’t catch on to how useless you are.

Now I can’t go back to sleep.

Told you. Get up. You’re only bothering your wife now.

Fine. I guess some alone time before work won’t be that bad.

Oh, look, the kids are awake too. Time to feed them.


You’re a horrible father. You should be happy to spend time with them.

I am. I’m just fucking tired. Shut up.

They’re probably going to end up fucked up because of you.

I’m trying okay. I love them. Shut up.

Trying and failing.

“Okay, kids, get dressed.”

Why aren’t their socks matching?

Because they lost half of them.

And you’re going to let them go to school like that?

No. I’ll find matching socks.

How do they not have any matching socks?

It’s your fault.

Okay, this sock matches, what? How the hell do you tear the hell out of a sock?

You hate them.

No, I don’t. That’s bullshit and you know it. Okay, we’re ready to go.  Walking them to school.  There’s a parent. Smile and nod. She didn’t acknowledge me. Does she think I’m weird? Disgusting? Does she think I want to fuck her? I don’t. I was just being polite.

You’re disgusting, you know.

Okay, time to go. I love hugs from my kids.

They’re going to hate you in a few years.

Just shut up.

What if something happens to them while you’re away?

I’m not listening to you.

What if someone shoots them?

Fuck off. It would kill me. Why would you make me think that?

The universe doesn’t want you to be happy. You’re disgusting. God doesn’t want you to be happy. Why should you be happy when so many other people are suffering?

Let’s just concentrate on getting to work.

You know it’s true. You’re not a good person. You deserve to suffer.

You’re right, I do. But I’m not. Can’t you just let me be happy and enjoy what I have for one moment?

That guy cut you off. You should speed up and tail him.

I’m not going to do that. That’s insane. And it’s not a big deal.

I hope he crashes his car and dies.

No, I don’t.

One more day at the office. You’re worthless.

I do a good job. I get good reviews every year.

They’re going to fire you today.

No, they’re not.

They’re going to fire you and you won’t be able to get another job and you will have failed your family. You’ll be homeless living out of a car and on welfare. Or worse, you’ll be a 43 year old loser living in his in-laws house.

I’m not getting fired and I can get another job if I am.

He said “Hello” to you.

I smiled and nodded to him.

Don’t make eye contact. You don’t want to be weird. Ha. You didn’t make eye contact. He probably thinks you’re rude. Say “Good morning” to her.

“Good morning.”

She didn’t respond. She doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re disgusting too.

She’s probably just dealing with her own shit.

She thinks you want her. She thinks you’re disgusting.  She thinks you’re a fat, old, disgusting pervert.

All I said was a friendly, “Good morning.”

You should go to the gym. Then at least you wouldn’t be fat.


Of course, they’d still think you’re weird.

Can’t you just shut the fuck up for one minute? Sigh… finally. Now maybe I can do some work.

This is boring.

God damn it.

This is boring. Check your Facebook.


They’re going to see you check Facebook instead of working and they’re going to fire you.

Sometimes I hate you.

You’re going to die.

I know.

You’re going to die soon. And then you’re kids will be messed up for life.

I’m not going to die soon. Will you just shut up and let me do my damned job.

Fine. Do your job. You’re going to die.

No, I’m not.

Your kids are dead.

No, they’re not.

You’re really crazy, you know.

I know. I’m on medication.

It’s not helping.

Yes, it is. I haven’t had a panic attack in 18 months.

You’re crazy and you’re going to turn your children crazy.

I’m not listening to you anymore. Finally, 5:00. See? I can make small talk with other people.

They still don’t like you.

Okay, what should I make for dinner?

You’re not a good cook.

My wife doesn’t complain.

She’s being polite. It’s really not that good.

I should do the dishes. Why are there so many dishes?

Because you’re lazy and don’t clean enough.

Okay, dishwasher started.

You don’t spend enough time with your kids.

I’m trying, alright!

You’re failing. You’re the worst father.

I’m pretty sure that’s not true. There’s that guy in Perris.

So you’re better than an abusive father. You deserve an award.

I’m going to have a drink.

You drink too much.

To shut you up.

You drink too much and you’re going to die and you’re wife and kids will be penniless and hate you.

I have life insurance.

Not enough to last them more than five years.

I’m having another drink.

You’re an alcoholic.

I’m not. I just want you to shut up. I’m watching TV.

Fine. But I’ll be waiting for you tomorrow morning.

Sigh… I know.

1 thought on “A Day in the Life of…

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s