Stock Tales
The Story of Saturn || Jailhouse Cock || Reggie's Bad Day
Reggie's Bad Day (by mo, 01.22.03)
It was March 16th. For the third time in the past
four years, Reginald Dourcey jumped the gun on St. Patrick's Day by
24 hours. Reginald, or Reggienald as his friends called him (much to
his chagrin!) was not normally a forgetful person, but something about
St. Patrick's Day always threw him off.
Maybe it was that dream he had last night... no, that was just a dream,
that was definitely just a dream.
"I have the whole day free," thought Reggie. "I was planning on going
to the St. Patty's Day Parade, so with that not til tomorrow I can do
whatever I want!"
"REGARDLESS of that dream," he added to himself.
Reggie recalled that there was a new film opening that he had really
wanted to see. He made his way over to the nearest theatre and
waited patiently, even as the other excited moviegoers clamored
around eachother to get good seats.
"What's with you people," asked Reggie. "Kangaroo Jack 2 isn't THAT
great a movie!"
"No, what's with YOU, buddy," exclaimed a hooligan in the crowd.
"You're either the only leprechaun who doesn't know when St. Patty's
Day is or a goddamn fairy!"
Reggie, who was in fact very gay, was so stung by the harsh words
that he fled the theatre, ripping off his green shirt as he ran.
"DAMN YOU, ST. PATRICK," he thought. Then he remembered the dream
and tried to calm down.
He stopped on a vacant curb to light a cigarette. It was a very
windy day, and his matches were all going out before they got the
stick going. Thoughts of the dream continued to haunt him as
one-by-one his matches were blown out prematurely.
Reggie just got more and more agitated. "This is ridiculous," he
shouted at the confused passerbys, "It was a DREAM! A meaningless
dream! There's no..."
Reggie's voice trailed off as he realized he was on the last match
in the box. He cupped his hand against his cheek, turned his back
to the wind, and ever-so-slowly ignited the match. It stayed lit.
He brought it down to the cigarette and let the flames lick over
the tip. Then a gust of wind blew it out. "DAMNIT," he screamed
as he hurled the cigarette into a nearby sewer grating. He could
swear he saw the cigarette ignite as it passed into the sewer.
Reggie set off towards a convenience store to buy a wind-proof lighter.
This took him back past the movie theatre, who by now had barricaded
the doors against the throngs of crazed Kangaroo Jack fans.
"WE WANT JACK, WE WANT JACK," chanted the fans as they clawed at
the theater's blast shield. The Kangaroo Jack Fan Club president, who
had been one of the primary instigating elements in the increasingly
violent mob, had produced a small ball peen hammer and was attempting
to batter down the steel curtain.
It was pointless, of course. The theatre had the shield installed
shortly after the Episode 3 riots left it gutted, and if it could
stand up to a bunch of angry geeks with home made lightsabers it
could certainly stand up to these people. Reggie allowed himself
a smirk over the futility of their actions, but right then a rock
that had been hurled at the theatre ricocheted and struck him
lightly in the groin. He doubled over and grimaced, and the rioters
took a short break from their rioting to laugh at him.
"That's it," Reggie said to himself, "That's the last straw. I'm
going home." As he walked back to his car, memories of last night's
dream flooded into his mind.
"EVERYTHING YOU DO TODAY WILL GO WRONG AND BRING YOU SHAME," bellowed
the hideous mental construct of Martin Short. "SAY GOODBYE TO YOUR
DIGNITY! IT'S TIME TO REWIND, BABY! IT'S TIME TO FIND OUT THE TRUTH!"
The creepy, dead-eyed child behind Short
just cackled at Reggie endlessly with a laugh exactly like his
father's. Eventually the ghoulish Martin Short started laughing at him
too, but he laughed just like Bruce, Reggie's recently split-from lover
of 8 years.
His thoughts snapping back to reality, Reggie realized that the dream
was nothing more than his insecurities flaring up, and that the day's
events were pure coincidence. As he drove home he whistled a happy
little tune and tried not to think any more about it.
After relaxing at home for a couple hours, Reggie picked up his
adopted son DeShawn at his preschool. DeShawn was waiting for him
at the front of the yard and looked like he had been crying. After
wiping the remaining tears off DeShawn's face, Reggie asked him
what was wrong. Realizing that he had dressed DeShawn in green for
St. Patrick's Day too, he had already guessed the answer.
"The other kids made fun of me all day," he bawled. "They called me
a dumb little mulatto who didn't even know when St. Patrick's Day was
and who had a faggot daddy."
Reginald took this in calmly. He stood behind DeShawn and addressed
the rest of the schoolyard, "Listen up! I am DeShawn's dad and I am
going to set you straight on one very important thing: DeShawn
knowns perfectly well when St. Patrick's Day is. I'm the one who
got it wrong."
DeShawn immediately started crying again at his father's outburst,
and one of the kids on the jungle gym called Reggie a fairy, which
started him crying too.
Yes, it really had been a bad day for Reggie.
Oh, and that cigarette he threw into the grating ignited some sewer
gas and caused an explosion that burned down half the city.
THE END