What happened? I really don’t get it. Suddenly, I’m on the edge of divorce and my life is falling apart.
It baffles my mind how removing Sandra from my life was like pulling the carpet out from under me. I mean, she wasn’t even a big part of my life before. When she was home, all her time was spent grooming Mr. Muggles or trying to remember why she just entered a room. Did she really ever DO anything?
Not really.
And yet, here I am without her and nothing seems to be working out. Somehow I don’t have a job, even though Angela and I started a new company. I guess it was a nonprofit organization like General Motors.
And why am I always eating cereal and take-out? I used to be a world-renowned chef!
But now, for some crazy reason, I’ve become a lazy bum. I’m even packing on extra weight despite a healthy diet of Coco Puffs and General Tso’s Chicken.
“You, like, need a job,” my Claire Bear suggested.
At first, I thought that idea was insane. I was finally getting to enjoy my retirement. All this me time could be good for me.
“Ooh, look, there’s a job in lumber,” Claire excitedly showed me the classified ad. “That’s like practically paper.”
“In its infancy,” I corrected her. “But, I’m not good with babies.”
“You were, like, good with me,” she smiled.
Looking at my hopeful little Claire Bear, I realized I couldn’t let her down. That’s exactly what I’ve been doing lately. She doesn’t want to see me down in the dumps without a plan. She wants me to go back to being my creepy, stalkery self. She wants a dad on a mission.
Maybe I could sell lumber. How hard could it be? You just find a potential buyer, use The Haitian to knock him out, implant a tracking isotope, offer 10% off if they buy within the next three days, and–“
“Dad,” Claire whined, “you, like, have that face.”
“What face?” I asked.
“That I’m going to get to shoot somebody face,” she answered.
Perhaps it is time to come out of retirement. If Brett Favre can still fire off a football at his age, surely I have a few more bullets in my chamber.