Porn Again-Part One

Continued from the Prologue…

Another boring day in paradise, Happy mused to himself as he carefully studied the annoying flash of the cheap alarm clock staring at him. Morbid, maniacal and outright disturbing in its cadence, his seemingly innocuous glance erupted with fervor as he slammed his hand down hard on the device, silencing it. Slowly lifting himself from the soft and secure confines of his bed, Happy studied every corner of his modern yet tasteful bedroom. Everything from the wallpaper and furnishings to the rather extravagant king sized bed reeked of a virtual Pottery Barn catalogue. If he didn’t know better, he could almost envision prices materializing before his very eyes to the tune of Candy’s voice as they debated for hours on the layout and overall palette when they first moved in. Perfectly polished and pristine wall sconces framed a beautifully grand mirror that directly faced their bed.

Man if that mirror could speak, the shit it would say...

No matter what anyone says, morning sex was always the best. The first crack of dawn when you get that erection that’s just too stubborn to go down no matter what, and she rolls over on her side, draping her leg over you...goddamn. Before you know it, you’re both biting and clawing away at each other, tearing into flesh, and you’re pulling her hair back and fucking her so hard she gets dizzy...and you know damn well you’re both running late for work. The best was always when you convinced her to call in sick. She struggles to catch her breath while attempting to maintain a conversation with her boss. Everything seems to go well, and just when she least expects it, you enter her deeply, forcing her to stifle her scream. Good times man. Good times...

Fast forward to today...

Surveying his bedroom, Happy took a moment to notice the abundance of simplicity and monotony that had long since gored its tentacles into a once youthful life. The morning breeze bursting through the window swayed through the fine fabric of his pajamas, annoying an erection that now only bulged in mechanical redundancy. He staggered to the mirror, taking in the sight of a man whose once vibrant outlook on life had now been beaten down, homogenized and weathered by a world of bills, car payments, mortgage payments and the like. He would have loved to take a boat out for some fishing, or drive down to Miami Beach for a decadent night of bright lights, dancing and much needed frivolity. Alas, dinner dates with either family or friends over useless banter now became his routine, albeit in between rather sparse occasions of what might be considered lovemaking with the wife. Now in his 30’s, Happy had fallen victim to the very morbid realization that a lot of married couples didn’t have sex, and they certainly didn’t fuck. They simply engaged in ‘coitus’ every once and a while. Yeah, that’s right...coitus. It’s a much more reserved, more civilized word. Sophisticated, refined, clinical...and completely fucking dreadful. And on most nights, even that didn’t happen. For example...

***

A few nights prior while living off the high of finally mustering the courage to go to the gym, he decided to try his newfound stamina in the bedroom. Not that he was exactly out of shape, his once youthful figure was now only slightly stocky, with barely visible signs of love handles and the usual wear and tear of life in your 30s. Not much in terms of stretch marks, but his overall lack of energy and fire coupled with the faint sight of blooming grey in his otherwise bushy hair was beginning to get to him. A friend suggested cardio training; 30-45 minute sessions on the elliptical. Happy instead insisted on going for an hour. The place was a virtual gleaming palace of technology, coupled with the grunts and groans of clanging and banging...clanging and banging. Jacked up, way too tanned douchebags with frosted tips obsessing over Smart Water and calorie counts worked on their dips, delts and squats. Women stretched and moved in ways that Happy hadn’t seen in a long time...and I do mean a long damn time. For a moment, it was hard to maintain consistency not to mention his fragile male pride when there’s some arrogant fuck bouncing 225 off his chest and another kid working traps and looking as if he was carved straight out of granite. His pride took another hit as the woman on the elliptical next to him smiled as she continued working the hell out of the machine, pumping faster and faster. Happy couldn’t help but look over, noticing that her machine was set to a resistance level of 10. Motherfucker. Just keep moving Hap. Just keep moving.

Reinvigorated from his workout and the shower that later followed, he emerged from the bathroom to catch the first sight of his wife in bed wearing nothing but a loose tank top and underwear while reading a book.

“Don’t forget, we’re having dinner with Stacy and Rob tomorrow night.”

“Who?”

“Seriously Hap, I’ve introduced you to her like five times already. Your memory’s getting ridiculous.”

“Is this the Stacy who sells those ridiculous thingamajigs?”

The absurdity of the question caused Candy to lift her eyes from the book she was heavily engrossed in, flashing him that disapproving look that she’d become known for.

“Those thingamajigs? I believe they’re called couples’ products,” she snarled. “Yes Hap, she sells couples’ products and makes quite a decent bit of money doing it. Lord knows it’s not exactly a bad idea in this economy.”

Here we go with the dreaded economy again. As if the day’s full out assault on his pride wasn’t enough, the last thing he needed to hear was more pissing and moaning about the shape of the nation’s economy. ‘The Great Recession’, they were calling it. Bush got the blame for everything: the economy, the war, and the healthcare circus that raised more than just pulses. Yet in spite of this, America actually believed that somehow Obama was actually going to wave a magic wand and fix everything. That’s the way it always was in this country: blame everything bad on the guy going out and roll the dice as hard as you could on the one coming in. In the end, it really didn’t matter whom you placed your bet on. As they say in Vegas, ‘the house always wins’. Still, Happy was always one for thinking positive, but Barack Obama??? Give me a break.

“Don’t bring the Lord into this. Somehow I don’t think God is somewhere telling people to sell sex toys as a means to cope with the economy. Stacy does that because she’s a freak, pure and simple.”

“Oh my God, you have to be one of the most close-minded people I have ever met,” she said as she threw a pillow at him. “There is nothing wrong with selling couples’ products Hap. It’s a legitimate business that’s thriving. Lots of women and men are doing it nowadays as a side gig. It can be a lot of fun not to mention informative.”

“I’m sorry love, I just fail to see how a dildo of all things is going to fix the deficit. And wait a minute...did I just hear you say that men are selling these things now?”

“Yeah. And?”

“And I’ll bet I know exactly what type. Gay men.”

This had been a sore subject for a while between the two. While she was the more liberal and open minded of them, Happy was always a bit conservative, especially on the subject of same-sex relations. Thanks to his upbringing, marriage was considered a sacred union between a man and a woman only.

“Hap, don’t start that again. It’s not funny.”

“Let me guess, they can sell the hell out of those butt plug things,” he playfully quipped as he jumped on the bed, arching his ass straight up in the air.

Candy erupted with laughter as she climbed on top of him, pinning him down to the bed.

“So you’re saying you want a little ass play every now and then?” The question alone offended him.

“Hey! We talked about this before. Real men do not take it up the ass! Where are you getting this sick shit from anyway? Is it Stacy? Is this the type of bullshit that she and Rob do behind closed doors?”

“Why does everything always have to be so serious with you?”

He didn’t respond. The indignant look slithering across his face was more than enough.

“Forget about it Hap. Forget I said anything. You know, it would be nice to communicate with you every once in a while about these-“

“I knew it!” he exclaimed, nearly startling her.

“What?”

“Rob takes it up the ass doesn’t he?”

“Oh my God! You’re completely ridiculous!”

“Son of a bitch, I can’t believe it! He’s a total half a fag!” Candy gave him a hearty punch in the gut.

“Don’t talk about my friend like that. Rob is a good person. You could learn a lot from him. He not only listens to Stacy, but he supports her 100% in her new business venture.”

“And to think I went out for a beer with him once,” he mused to himself.

“Unlike some people I know, Rob’s a great listener and receptive to Stacy’s needs. He’s passionate, sophisticated, open-minded-“

“Yeah, I remember him recommending this place over in Wilton Manors. So weird, there were all these rainbow-colored flags around the area-“

“He’s artistic, intellectual, a great conversationalist,” she continued.

“Yeah he’s totally half a fag. Oh my God, does Stacy know about this?”

“Will you stop calling him that? I don’t like that word, and you should know better, Mr. Christianity.”

“Look, don’t try to bring our religion into this as if it’s a burden. I’m just sick and tired of this...thing that’s getting out of control.”

She flashed him a disturbed look.

“This ‘thing’? What on Earth are you talking about?”

He chose his words carefully, seeing that he was virtually in the doghouse already.

“Look, I’m not saying that people don’t have the right to live their lives as they please, but I do believe in certain ethical and spiritual boundaries.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the simple fact that a man could never give me what God has created in a woman for me. The act of two men conducting themselves in that fashion is not natural...and flat out wrong. It goes against both God and nature itself.”

“And I suppose bombing innocent people for oil profits over a lie is perfectly Christian?”

“Don’t get all Hans fucking Blix on me right now, you know exactly what I mean, and you can’t possibly equate that to this.”

Candy slammed her book down on the nightstand, growing more and more frustrated.

“I’m not trying to equate anything Hap, I’m just saying that maybe the reason we ‘Christians’ get such a bad wrap is because of the fact that we’re so quick to judge and condemn what we don’t understand. Have you ever considered looking at it from their perspective? Could you even attempt to open yourself up a bit?”

He shot her a rather confused look.

“That’s not what I meant asshole. You know exactly what I was talking about.”

“Ok look, let’s cut the crap. I’m just saying that maybe there’s a part of me that’s sick and tired of this ‘gay agenda’ that’s popping up all over the place.”

“And what exactly is the gay agenda? Please explain.”

“Don’t make me out to be the bad guy,” he continued. “Everywhere you go nowadays, all you hear about is ‘Gay Pride’ this, ‘Gay Awareness’ that. A regular stand-up guy grows up the right way, never gets into trouble with the law, goes to college, graduates and becomes a respectable American...and nobody gives a damn. Yet if that same guy were to take it up the ass and publicly announce it to the world, all of a sudden it’s a big spectacle that we all have to be a witness to. Why can’t they just keep their ‘business’ to themselves like normal people without broadcasting it all over the Internet and television? I mean for God’s sake Candy, kids are watching.”

At that moment, the words struck a raw nerve deep within the woman, directing her attention out the window. This had been a nagging issue between the two for a while. While Candy was moderately happy with her life and career, what she wanted most, as many women often do, was the one thing that she didn’t have. It certainly wasn’t for a lack of trying. Happy often daydreamed of the idea of coming home to see their darling little girl or boy playing in the backyard without a care in the world. Unfortunately, some things just don’t work out as planned. A virtual success in every other aspect of her life, it was the one thing left that haunted Candy deep within, leaving her feeling unfulfilled.

“Babe, you know I didn’t mean it that way. I just...shit, I don’t know. I just got carried away with all this Rob talk.”

“I just wanted you to open up a little. And for the record, Rob’s not gay. He is dating Stacy after all.”

“That doesn’t mean he’s not taking it up the ass somehow.”

“You know what asshole, sleep on the couch tonight.”

“The couch???”

“Yes, the couch. Look at it this way; you won’t have to worry about ‘taking it up the ass’...and most of all, I won’t have to fake it again.”

A confused, yet defeated look flashed across his face; the kind most men get when their women finally clue them in on something they should’ve known all along, but didn’t out of either love, respect or whatever the fuck convinces them to remain with the poor bastard. The air taken out of him, he retreated to the bedroom door, desperately searching for something clever and redeeming to say. Nothing came to mind.

“Can I at least get a pillow?”

In a second, Candy threw the book she’d been reading directly at him. He caught it just as he stammered out the door. Retreating down the stairs to the living room, he nearly went crashing to the floor as he slipped on something underneath him. Batteries. Three small batteries scattered across the living room from the force of his weight. It was always their usual routine to head over to the local supermarket to stock up on batteries and other supplies for the annual hurricane season. They’d amassed such a collection that now all of a sudden stray batteries were popping up all over the house. With much on his mind and a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, Happy slunk deep into the couch, staring out in the darkness of the room surrounding him. Still holding the book in his hand, he looked down at the cover. The title read: SHE COMES FIRST.

If it isn’t one thing, it’s another...

***

Happy surveyed the room, still wincing from the memory. As he later ventured through the house, he noticed just how much of his personal prizes he’d compromised away as a married man. Gone were some of his prized possessions, from a trophy of the huge bass he caught years ago with his jackass brother to his framed Miami Dolphins jersey. He knew going in that it was either Candy’s way or the highway when it came to furnishing the new house...and how could he ever argue? With the flash of her smile or the flutter of her eyelashes not to mention the very real threat of no sex if she didn’t get her way, there was no way he could argue. Fuck Dan Marino...it wasn’t that serious.

Speaking of ‘no sex’, what started out as subtle attempts at one-upping each other later drifted off into this abyss of a lackluster lifestyle to say the least. Happy thought again about the rigid yet comfortable bedframe; attempting to remember the last time they’d put it to good use. In the beginning, he and Candy nearly wore each other out, disturbing the neighbors with their sessions...now, not so much. God bless the married life. For someone who stood up in front of God and said ‘I DO’, he wasn’t doing much of anything these days. What’s worse was the fact that the wife wasn’t doing much in terms of complaining either. Between her work at the art gallery and his meager and obnoxiously boring gig running the bookstore, it was the routine itself that was killing them both. A typical modern American marriage if there ever was one. His daydreaming soon became subdued by the sound of rushing water coming from the bathroom. Normally this would be the time when he’d intrude on her shower session with some early morning loving...but even that fell to the wayside after a while. She was certainly stingy about her hot water in the morning, which normally meant either a lukewarm or flat out cold shower for him. Not that it was a rarity, coupled with the cold shoulder he’d often get from her.

Happy later surveyed his closet, eyeing his future wardrobe for work. ‘Wardrobe’ itself was a word that was too elaborate and magnificent for the mass display that presented itself before him. Comfortable yet meager Doc Marten shoes usually rounded off a muted color display of slacks and shirts ripped from the pages of a J. Crew catalogue...last season. Perfectly crisp, polished and clean, he later studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror, observing the emerging strands of gray, wondering where the time went. After another daily round of brushing and flossing, he practiced that familiar smile that often did its best to mask what was lingering deep inside. Maybe somewhere deep within, he was longing for that young kid with the whole world in front of him to finally reemerge, igniting a fire that married life had seemingly extinguished.

“Dad left a message for you earlier,” Candy called from the bedroom. “He wants to know why you hadn’t been by to see them. Figured you were too busy.”

As if he didn’t already have enough to think about, the last thing he needed was his father delighting himself in another session of ‘I told you so.’ A very successful doctor, he often relished in reminding his son about the error of his life choices. Yet when it came to his brother, very little was uttered, if anything at all.

“Also, you never mentioned the drapes.”

“The drapes?”

“Oh never mind, forget it.”

“Babe, one minute you’re talking about my father and the next you’re mentioning drapes. What are you talking about?”

His eyes drifted from his defeated expression in the mirror over to his wife. Whereas he was your typical personification of workforce dull, she was looking rather sexy today. Gone was the usual librarian’s dress coupled with ballerina flats. In its place was a very sexy and form fitting black dress complete with moderate yet eye-catching heels that accentuated her fiercely toned legs. Someone definitely had a new spring in her step today.

“The new drapes I bought last week, the ones that you agreed to go shopping with me for and you bailed.”

“I didn’t bail babe. I told you, I had to spend a few extra hours at work. In case you didn’t notice, we’re in the middle of a recession and everyone’s panicking. Had to lay off two more of my staff. That wasn’t easy, trust me.”

Candy groaned as she took her time applying her lipstick.

“Everything with you is work. You never take the time out to breathe and enjoy life just for a moment.”

“And shopping for drapes is enjoying life?”

“Forget about it. It just would’ve been nice to get your opinion.”

“You want my opinion? Ok, I don’t like them. I told you I didn’t like the green.”

She studied her figure in the mirror as she grabbed her purse.

“Well it’s too late now Mr. Downman. You’ll just have to get used to them. And try not to be late coming home tonight from work. We’re having-“

“Dinner with Rob and Stacy tonight. I got it,” he murmured as he leaned over to give her a kiss. Much to his dismay, she breezed straight out the door.

“I love you too,” he whispered as he looked back at himself in the mirror.

The big plasma screen in the living room that usually projected everything from football to boxing now erupted with every news station going on and on about the state of the economy. This was definitely the bad time. People were losing their jobs, their homes and even had to face the burden of choosing between food and suitable healthcare. Whereas the local supermarket was usually packed with customers stocking up on groceries, now Happy barely saw anyone except a minimal number of employees milling about the aisles. The banks were foreclosing on homes all throughout the state of Florida, where the recession seemed to be taking its toll the hardest. Those perfect, picturesque beachfront homes that the snowbirds from New York all clamored for didn’t seem so perfect now. America had gone and gotten itself in a major pickle. Between the ongoing struggle to withdraw from Afghanistan, the car industry crisis, healthcare and housing issues on top of owing China money, this was a bad time indeed.

In spite of all this, Happy managed to keep his composure as he exited his home and headed for his car. Buying a Prius was definitely a smart decision, he thought to himself as he opened the door. Not the most for style or substance, but what it made up for in economy was all that mattered. The days of the flashy SUVs and sports cars speeding up and down A1A were soon coming to an end...or maybe not...

In the driveway of the house next to his sat one such flashy piece of a sexy American dream. A Diablo red Ferrari, owned by his next door neighbor, made Happy feel just about as important as a nerd on prom night making a bad decision. Sitting in his perfectly impish Prius, he tried desperately to make himself feel bigger over the fact that he was spending far less on insurance than the other guy. And the gas mileage on that high priced piece of shit? Forget about it. Happy was never really one for flash and style. He was prudent and frugal, which was a great thing to be in these tough times. However, prudent and frugal didn’t get you what he saw next.

Parked inside the car was his next-door neighbor, a buffed up, tattooed and intimidating presence of a Black man, reclining back in the driver’s seat without a care in the world. He looked like either one of those rappers you hear about or one of those ripped models in the underwear ads. At first, Happy thought the man might be sleeping off another night of drunken partying with his girlfriend. Their frequent romps in the sack certainly made their rounds in the gossip circle of the neighborhood. Marcus. Marcus Halloway. For obvious reasons, all the neighbors knew his name, and the women all fantasized about him, somehow attempting to live vicariously through his girlfriend, or girlfriend for the month. Rumor had it that he didn’t keep the same woman for very long, and with looks like that, it wasn’t often hard to imagine why. Some guys have all the damn luck.

Happy peered out from his window, studying the man in his car, wondering if he should go over and check on him. They’d never really spoken to each other with the exception of the occasional small chats here and there. His interests mainly centered around art, to which Happy still could’ve cared less about. Candy was able to give him a few tips here and there though. Guy didn’t seem all that bad. As Happy continued his gaze, all of a sudden, he noticed something he didn’t expect to see early in the morning. Out of nowhere, the head of a woman was soon spotted bobbing up and down in the seat next to him. His dark, ebony hands gripped the steering wheel intensely, struggling to maintain himself. Immediately, Marcus looked over and caught Happy staring at him. The man did nothing more but smile and nod while grabbing a mane full of hair and pushing her head down deeper onto him. Completely embarrassed, Happy hit the ignition and took the Prius as fast as it could go.

***

Crossroads Books, the leading supplier of Christian fiction and non-fiction in the country, was a booming marketplace of the finest titles from both established and up-and-coming authors. For the last four years, Happy had grown to become one of the top if not the top leader in the company. Taking a suffering bookstore in the Fort Lauderdale area and turning it into the biggest performer in the market was no small feat, and he knew it. With his store’s sales dominating for quite some time, word was that he was next in line for a promotion to District Manager. Even though the recession had taken a massive chunk out of his sales and overall performance, Happy was their go-to guy, and in his view, it was about time he got some well- deserved recognition for all the hard work he’d put in.

As the car pulled into the lot, he immediately became displeased with the fact there were no other cars present. For a Store Manager, this was not a good sign. An empty lot meant no business, which was not something he needed at this point, especially after having to lay off two staff members already.

“Morning boss,” a rotund, freckled face redheaded kid beamed in his direction as he exited the car.

“Morning Clayton, and why aren’t you inside helping customers?”

“There aren’t any customers Hap. That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Oh Lord,” he groaned as he surveyed the parking lot, doing the usual checks for trash or visible wear and tear on the building. If there was one thing that he understood was the key fact that in business, presentation was everything. It didn’t matter what you sold, whether it was cars, appliances or yes, Christian books. Presentation usually accounted for roughly 60-70% of the sale. If it was one thing he couldn’t abide by, was his store looking even remotely subpar. He continued to glance throughout the parking lot, and later over at the businesses across the street. A towering mall filled with everything from Forever XXI to Guess to Victoria’s Secret stood in his opposition, not to mention the Starbucks next door that was always packed. It was a damn shame. Even in the middle of the recession when people are struggling between paying their mortgage and health insurance, they would always find an excuse to go carousing for the latest jeans that were way too tight, skimpy lingerie or over-caffeinate their brains courtesy of their double tall, soy what-the-fucks. Even from across the street, he could see that yet again, there was some sort of melodrama brewing over at the popular cafe.

“I’ve been mulling some things over,” Clayton continued as they entered the store. “You always say that presentation accounts for roughly 60-70% of the sale right?”

“Right?” Happy replied, wondering where this was all going.

“I’m just thinking out loud here Hap. It’s the summer time, crazy hot, bright, beautiful skies, and we have this massive parking lot that’s empty.”

“I’m not getting your point,” Happy replied as he surveyed the sales floor, tidying up book displays and swiping his hands across the front tables for dust.

“With this recession getting worse, we’re going to need something to boost awareness and get people back in the store. Last month our numbers fell behind plan by 30% and I’m thinking we need to bring some excitement back into this place.”

Happy studied the young man, noticing his exuberance.

“And how did you know how far behind we were in sales last month?” Clayton’s smile beamed even brighter.

“Well I took your advice from last month’s staff meeting about being more proactive and taking initiative, so I ran some numbers. Not only were we below sales plan by 30%, but also our DPT was well below the $50 standard. I was thinking maybe if we moved more of the bookmarks and key chains we got in to the front counter, we could easily use them as impulse buys. That way we could not only affect our DPT but also our overall conversion rate.”

Happy’s wariness soon settled, impressed with Clayton’s assessment. DPT stood for dollars per transaction. It generally meant that for every customer that shopped in the store, the goal was to attempt to sell him or her at least $50 worth of merchandise. A book alone wasn’t enough. Why not sell them a bookmark or a key chain or a gift card as well? Happy preached not only the numbers but also the overall importance of knowing them in nearly every staff meeting. Priding himself on building a knowledgeable team of future leaders, he knew he was going to need someone to take over the store for when his eventual promotion came. For an Assistant Manager on the rise, Clayton was proving himself to be quite capable.

“That’s a great idea. I’m glad to see you taking more of an active interest in the store. Anything else?”

Clayton steadied himself.

“Now just hear me out Hap. This could be huge.”

Happy prepared himself for what came next.

“What would be better? What would be bigger? What would create more excitement on the block and get more eyes on our store than a bikini car wash right here in the parking lot???”

The words struck Happy numb.

“I beg your pardon?”

“Think about it Hap. We get some girls in bikinis to wash cars in the parking lot all day, $10 a pop. Any customer who drives up gets a discounted coupon to the store. We could even give a percentage of the money to a local charity.”

Happy stared at the kid as if he were nuts.

“Clayton, not that I would ever be the one to deliberately try to kill this entrepreneurial spirit you got going here, but when exactly was the last time you looked around this store?”

“I don’t follow.”

“This is a Christian bookstore Clayton, not Hooters. We cater to a fine, upstanding and conservative consumer base that also includes children. We’re located in a neighborhood that’s made up primarily of fine, upstanding and conservative families that also include children. Roughly 50-60% of our monthly sales are directly contributed from fine, upstanding and conservative customers who also happen to have children. Now all of a sudden, you want to turn our parking lot into a strip club just because of this recession business?”

“But Hap, we could really do this man. I know some real bad bitches who would just love-“

“What the hell is wrong with you Clayton?” Happy fired back. You’re a spoiled, middle-class White kid from Orlando. What do you know about ‘bad bitches’?”

“Sorry boss. I was only trying to help our bottom line, and I really do think this could help.”

Happy gave the young man a hug and patted him on the back.

“Look son, I’m proud of you for standing up and taking more of a leadership role in things, but a bikini car wash in the parking lot of our store is only going to attract the wrong type of attention, not to mention get us possibly picketed. Right now is definitely not the time to do anything out of the ordinary that could cost us any further business. Let’s just focus on the things we’re doing well and come up with some other ideas that are a little less controversial.”

“Sorry Hap, and you’re right. I guess I don’t know what got into me.”

“Just do me a favor. Leave the ‘bad bitches’ and Hip-Hop flash cards at home. That’s not exactly a good look for you.”

Clayton laughed. “You got it. By the way, you have a visitor waiting in your office.”

“In my office? Who? Is it the District Manager?” “No,” Clayton giggled. “Your father.”

Oh fuck...

The office space was a virtually spotless and efficient oasis of finely sorted reports; folders and mailboxes attached to the wall next to a dry erase board outlining the current monthly sales standings. A 30% drop in sales last month was beginning to look pale in comparison to what was in store this month, judging by all the numbers in red on the board. For a Store Manager who lived by the adage ‘never let them see you sweat’, Happy was beginning to sweat more than a little. Still, his track record prior to the recession spoke volumes by itself.

“I told you a long time ago to get out of this racket,” a booming voice sounded back at him.

Sitting at his desk was a tall, distinguished and more successful version of himself, tapping his fingers along the edge of the finely cleaned desk in that manner elementary school teachers did when they were about to discipline a child. The esteemed Dr. Chas Downman was one of the most respected members in the community, appearing in the local newspaper and magazines several times a year. He even rubbed elbows with both the mayor and the governor. Impeccably dressed from head to toe, the light shone off the surface of his balding head like a halo. Every single hair in his gray beard was perfectly trimmed and positioned in its proper place, as his glasses gracefully hung from the bridge of his nose, which seemed forever pointed downward toward Happy.

“Pop, don’t start this with me again,” Happy pleaded. “And what are you doing here anyway? You almost never come here.”

“Do I look like I need another Bible son? Or one of those tacky bookmarks this fat ass on the sales floor was trying to pawn off on me right as I walked in? I told you from the beginning to invest your skills into something that was more recession-proof, like healthcare for instance.”

“Pop please. I really don’t need another round of ‘I told you so’. It’s bad enough I have to hear this from the wife.”

Chas studied him from head to toe, searching for the truth.

“Are you two having problems?”

“Everything’s fine Pop, I just don’t need a lecture on how I’m either ruining my life or not opening up right now. What are you doing here? And can I have my seat please?”

Chas quickly got out of his way while handing him a cup of coffee. “Here, try to settle down and drink this.”

“What is it?”

His father gave him a perturbed look. “It’s Starbucks son. I thought I’d be nice and bring my son a cup of coffee this morning. Is that acceptable?”

“That’s fine Pop, but what’s in this?”

“The barista, this nice Jewish girl recommended it. It’s a double tall, soy what-the-fuck or something, I forget. I’ll tell you something else, that’s probably the last time I’ll ever go into a Starbucks. Could you believe these two women in line were about to get into a fight with the kid at the bar over almost running out of soy milk? I mean actually to the point of nearly cussing and threatening physical violence! Vultures! I tell you, this recession is starting to make people lose their minds. And now this Obama guy, can you believe this piece of work we got in office?”

“Pop not now please.”

“I’m just saying son. Just saying...I just never thought in my wildest dreams we’d see a Muslim in the White House. It’s fucking un-American I tell you-“

“Pop stop it right now. The guy’s not Muslim. That’s just his name-“

“My ass,” Chas snorted. “Have we forgotten 9/11 all of a sudden?”

“What the hell does 9/11 have to do with Obama dad? Please explain that connection to me!”

“You watch your tone with me Harper. I was simply trying to make my point.”

“Well make your point then, but don’t come in to my place of business implying that Obama’s a terrorist along with whatever else you’ve got cooked up inside your head.”

“Did you vote for him?”

“Of course not, that’s besides the point. I don’t even know what the hell we’re talking about here.”

Chas studied his son, making him feel even more uneasy in his chair as he loomed over him, glancing occasionally at the dwindling numbers marked in red on the sales board.

“I told you Pop, I have everything under control.”

“As I can clearly see,” Chas mumbled. “What I am simply saying is this Harper. We’re in for some major changes on the horizon, all of us. While I have the luxury of knowing that the healthcare industry, of which I am a proud member of, is virtually recession-proof, this little racket you got going on here is not. While I admire and respect my son for wanting to help spread the word of God in the business sense, I am concerned about your financial future. You have a lovely wife Harper. Have you really taken time to think about the circumstances if this thing blows wide open and gets worse? What about your house, your marriage? What about healthcare for the two of you?”

“Oh don’t worry about Candy and I as far as that’s concerned. We’ve already heard that speech from you a million times. Maybe you should be more concerned about those poor unfortunate souls who can’t afford-“

“Don’t you even dare start on me with that nonsense,” his father interjected. “I’m a proud, hard-working American citizen who actually works to provide healthcare for himself and his family. It’s not my fault that some welfare-sucking slacker wants to spend $200 on a pair of obnoxious sneakers instead of investing in their personal future. These fuckers want free healthcare, send their asses to Canada where they’re giving it away!”

“Pop, thanks for the coffee, and I really appreciate the visit, but I really need to-“

“Settle down son, settle down. I’m just talking here, just talking. What’s the matter? You finally get too big for your old man to look out for you?”

“Well maybe you could come down on my brother every once in a while like you do me. You do remember your other son don’t you?”

A deafening silence filled the room as Chas adjusted his glasses.

“Now why you gotta go and spoil the day by talking about that rat bastard? I came down here to see how you were doing and hopefully give you some helpful advice that you might want to take to heart. How’s Candace doing?”

Happy could feel himself sinking lower into his seat.

“She’s fine dad. We’re supposed to have dinner tonight with Stacy and Rob.”

“Rob?” Chas asked. “Is she still with that guy?” “Yes, she’s still with that guy.”

“You know, I hear he’s half a fag.”

“Pop, not now. Please.”

“Speaking of which, you won’t believe the shit I had to put up with at the hospital the other day.”

“Oh God,” Happy murmured while drowning his sorrows in coffee.

“Watch the blasphemy boy, I raised you better,” his father commanded. “So anyway, we get this guy rushed in to the ER the other day. Big guy, about 6’5, 220, handsome, football-looking type. He’s lying on his stomach pissing, moaning and squealing like a pig stuck under a gate. The nurse tells me it’s a rather unique injury, but I’m thinking ‘no problem’. In my profession, I’ve seen it all, but son I have never...and I mean never seen anything like this before in my life!”

“I take it this story is headed somewhere?”

His father braced himself.

“The poor bastard was bleeding from his rectal cavity due to a 10-inch dildo being shoved up his ass!”

“What?”

“My thoughts exactly! What sick fuck gets off on a 10-inch dildo being stuck up his ass? You want to know the worse part about it? When the poor nurse tries to explain to his ‘girlfriend’ or whatever the hell you call the other guy in this fiasco that his insurance won’t cover the operation, the fucker actually tries to argue about a pre-existing condition!”

“Pop, I don’t believe that for a-“

“Yeah, so let that be a lesson to you Harper. Just when you think you’ve got it bad, somebody else has it much worse. I mean you could actually deal with the stress I deal with on a daily basis. ‘Pre-existing condition’ my ass. Literally! I tell you, these uppity queers are getting out of control!”

Happy stared at his father, dumbfounded.

“Point I’m trying to make son, is maybe you should try to put yourself in a better position financially to be prepared for what may come. I’m your father and I love you, and I just want to see you utilize all the potential you have for your future. And come over to the house for dinner sometime soon. Your mother misses you. So does Nana.”

Happy rose from his seat to give his father a hug.

“Don’t worry Pop. Candy and I will be over soon. Just promise me you’ll stop worrying so much about my future. I learned from a great dad.”

“Well thank you son, and I appreciate that. You’re my youngest boy and I just want you to be prepared for whatever may come around the corner with this recession thing. Besides, if we don’t watch our backs we’ll all be taking it up the ass pretty soon with this socialist fuck Obama in office. God bless you son.”

“Bless you too Pop,” Happy blurted, eagerly ushering his father out of the office.

Jesus Christ…

TO BE CONTINUED IN PART TWO…