We can cure your procrastination for wholesale

Pulling into his driveway on a nightly basis had taken on a more ominous tone in recent years for Jared Smallwood. He wasn’t so concern with his personal safety in his neighborhood. There were a few unsavory characters around. For the most part though, his neighbors were hard workers who paid their taxes and put in an honest day’s work. The neighborhood’s downside was that there were frequent loud house parties on the weekend. When these parties did occur, Jared was often greeted by a young housewife at the door the following morning. With a cheery disposition, the young lady would apologize profusely for causing so much noise the previous evening. In addition, she’d promise to keep the noise down in the future. But in the eight years that he’d lived on the block that future had never seemed to materialize. However, his primary source of dread occurred was not out in the neighborhood, but rather when he stepped through his own front door.

As Jared entered his petite abode, he found himself surrounded by a scene of utter chaos. There were piles of laundry littered across the couch like a rolling river. Twisted columns of empty boxes and paper plates spiraling high out of the trash can. Coupons, circulars and long since read newspapers scattered across the dirt-spotted carpet. On the kitchen table, there was a pile of self-help books, magazines and discarded mail that possibly could rival Everest in height. And at the center of this maelstrom lay his blushing bride of twenty years, June, sitting in a leather Barco lounger; with cellphone in hand, occasionally looking up from the screen to gleam what the television anchor was reporting on the news.

Catching sight of her husband as he walked into her field of view, she spun around to face him. “Hey there, Babe. You look like you had a long day,” smiled June.

“You could say that. The boss called me into the office this morning and wanted to talk about —.”

Before he could finish his thought, June leapt out of the chair and made her way to the far end of the room. Jared watched as she began smacking her hand against the wall. June yelled, “Do you think you could vacuum any louder? I don’t think they can hear you in Tokyo.”

“Actually, Hon. I was telling you that my boss had a question about how I was handling the Botham account. He said that I needed to —.”

“Just give me one minute, Babe,” said June.

Jared watched as June ran over and grabbed the T.V. remote. Pressing down on the up- volume key, the small room was suddenly filled with the ear-splitting sound of the Sports Reporter reading off the previous night’s football scores. Mercifully, she lowered the volume back down to normal within a few seconds. With a dejected look on her face, June turned back to face her husband, “Why did I ever let you talk me into moving into this demilitarized zone of a neighborhood.”

“Well, maybe, I should just hire a construction guy to bulldoze the house and we could start over someplace else,” said Jared.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” said June.

“It means that you always say that you are going to clean the house, but I come home to the same mess every single night.”

“That is not fair. You know that I am trying to balance the housework with writing my first novel,” said June.

“From where I am standing, that balancing act is taking you right over a cliff.”

“Why don’t you do me a favor and jump off a cliff,” screamed June.

“Maybe I’ll do just that,” said Jared. “Then you’ll actually need to get a job.”

“Fine by me,” said June.

“Me too,” said Jared. “I need to get the hell of here anyway.”

Jared watched as June’s tone immediately transformed from harpy to songbird. She reached forward and wrapped her arm around his waist, “No, Baby. Don’t leave. I am so sorry.” He watched as she slipped her hand in his jacket pocket and removed his car keys. Dangling them in front of his face, June’s expression became a condensing grimace, “I am the one who needs to get some air after being trapped in this hovel all day.”

Jared felt June’s hand slip past him once again and into his back pocket. He could only stand by and watch as she removed three twenties from his back pocket before walking out and slamming the door.

While the thunderous sound of the door closing still reverberating throughout the room, Jared made the decision that he, too, could do with a little bit of fresh air. Not so much to clear his head, but more to distract himself from the misery that was his current domestic situation.

Before he knew it, Jared found himself walking down to his local bar, The Billy Goat and the Troll.

Once inside, Jared made himself comfortable on a wooden bar stool with a torn and faded red leather covering at its’ apex. The seat wasn’t the most comfortable that Jared had ever sat in, but it was far from the worst. In his hand, Jared swished a Roy Rogers with extra maraschino cherries in a dirty swifter glass. Contemplating his existence while studying the movement of the ice and bubbles in the glass, Jared was taken aback to hear a voice from behind him.

“What brings you to this small corner of Shangri-La this evening, my friend?”

Jared looked behind him to see a tall, yet rotunda gentleman wearing a plaid shirt, suspenders, and a Stetson hat. “Thank you for your concern, but I’d rather be alone at the moment.”

“Nah! If you had wanted to be alone, friend, you would be sitting in your favorite chair curled up with a book. Instead, you have decided to venture out into the world in order to commune with your fellow human beings.”

Jared watched as the Stranger sat down on the stool beside him. Before he was truly aware of what was going on, the Stranger lifted his voice as well as two fingers in the area, “Barkeep, a double shot of tequila for my friend and I.”

“I am just fine nursing my Roy Rogers, if you don’t mind,” said Jared.

“Nonsense,” said the Stranger. “You’ll never manage to grow any hair in any unmentionable places with that watered down concoction.”

Before he could even tell the bartender to take the drink back, two small glasses came crashing down in front of Jared and the Stranger, who immediately grabbed up the glass and deposited its’ content into his mouth in one large gulp. “Three more, Barkeep. One for myself and two for my friend here. He really needs to catch up.”

Not wanting to insult his new acquittance, Jared lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip of the tequila. Immediately, he could feel his forehead beginning to emit sweat and his throat close up. Putting his hands out in front of him, Jared gasped in a hoarse whisper, “Water. Please I need water.”

“Barkeep, my friend needs some water, if you don’t mind.”

A second later, the bartender dropped two shot glasses of tequila and a large Weizen of water in front of Jared. He reached out and drank half the glass like a traveler who had just reached a desert oasis.

“Now that we have partaken of drink, I’ll ask you again. What is troubling you?”

“I suppose that I had a different vision of what married life would have been for me.”

“Why? Your wife not making you happy, my friend?” asked the Stranger.

“She doesn’t make me unhappy, but it doesn’t feel like we are working together. I come home from a long day at the office to find her sitting in front of television. Meanwhile, the clothes are piled on the couch, the rug is unvacuumed and there is no dinner in the oven.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you, friend, but we are not living in the fifties anymore.”

“I realize that there are things that I need to do for myself, but that is not the point.”

“Then what is the point, my dear friend?” asked the Stranger.

“June left her job as an editor five years ago to write her first novel. For the first year, she wrote like a woman possessed, knocking out about ten pages a day. Then almost suddenly, June developed Writers’ Block and hasn’t written a word since.”

“Instead of being supportive of her, you are asking her to become the perfect homemaker.”

“I don’t want perfect. I would just appreciate some help with the housework.”

“It seems to me that once your dear, June, finishes this novel then she can return to a place of greater equilibrium in her life. I might have the perfect solution for you, my friend.”

“You do. What is it?”

“First, I must advise you that before we enter into any form of business agreement that I will require a small fee for services rendered, which we can determine a later date.”

“Fine. Whatever gets June off that damn recliner, I’ll pay it.”

“Very well,” said the Stranger.

Jared looked back over at the Stranger. A moment before, the Stranger’s hands were empty, but he was holding a small flask in one hand and a scroll in the other. Not knowing how else to explain how either had appeared, Jared attributed it to the after-effects of the Tequila.

“Once your lovely, June, drinks this elixir, she once again will possess the motivation and energy to complete all your household chores as well as finish her novel.”

Jared reached out for the small flask, but the stranger pulled it away.

“There is one small formality. I require your signature on this written agreement before I would be able to release the elixir to your person,” said the Stranger.

“I suppose that there is no harm in that. If you don’t mind, I’ll take the contract home and glance over it before signing anything.”

“Oh no, dear friend. There is no time for that. The potency of this elixir decreases within a matter of hours to a point of being almost ineffective. Your wife will need to consume it almost immediately after you arrive home.”

“No, I don’t feel comfortable with that arrangement. Besides, June stormed out of the house. I don’t think she’ll be back for hours.”

“Are you sure about that?” asked the Stranger.

Jared suddenly felt his phone vibrating in his jacket pocket. In almost a daze, he lifted it out and put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Sweetie, I am sorry that I lost my head before. I came back home and am getting ready for bed. Where are you?” asked June.

“I just went out to get some air, Honey,” said Jared. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Would you be a dear and pick up some milk on your way home. Thanks, Babe.”

“I suppose that she is home,” said Jared.

The Stranger put the contract down in front of Jared, handing him a pen. “Perfect. Sign here and our transaction will be completed.”

As Jared signed his name on the bottom line, he glanced over to see the signature to his right. It read ‘Ned Flamebottom, CEO Procrastination Industries, Ltd.’ Staring at the signature for a second longer, Jared raised his head to inquire of Mr. Flamebottom about the origins of his unusual last name. However, there was now only a puff of smoke wafting in the air before him, as well as the small flask containing the elixir sitting on the bar.

Chalking up Mr. Flamebottom’s sudden disappearance to the influence of tequila on his system, Jared swiped the flask off the bar and headed out the door.

Within the hour, Jared found himself walking back through the front door of his house. Waiting for him just over the threshold was June, hands on her hips and a sour look on her face.

Seeing June’s general disposition, Jared immediately remembered that he had forgotten the milk. “Sweetie, I am so sorry that I didn’t get the milk. It has been the craziest night.”

“Who gives a crap about the stupid milk,” said June. “I want to know what you did with it!”

“Did with what?” asked Jared.

“With our beautiful flat-screen television,” said June.

Jared followed his wife’s finger as it pointed directly at the space where her beloved television had sat mere hours before but was now vacant.

Like a tiger pouncing on its’ prey, June pressed her nose next to Jared’s face. “Is this your little punishment for me? When I clean the house and make your stupid supper, I get my T.V. back?”

“I swear that I didn’t do anything with the television. It was right there when I left.”

June’s expression changed from suspicion to contempt. “I must be kidding myself. You aren’t smart enough to come up with a plan that devious. No. It was someone else.”

Without any warning, June returned to the far wall, picking up a broomstick on the way. She spun it around handle first as she slammed it into the wall. “You miserable harpy. I know you broke into my house and took my television. And I don’t know how but I am going to get you!”

As he watched his wife slamming the broom against the wall, Jared heard a familiar voice inside his head, “No worries, friend. We will determine payment for our transaction at a later date.”

“I guess later came sooner than I thought,” said Jared.

June suddenly dropped the broom to the floor. “What are you mumbling about?” asked June

“I was saying that it is getting late. Maybe you should take your tonic and go to bed, Dear.”

“Not before I call the cops so they can get a search warrant for her house.”

“Dear, I am sure that the police have their hands full with all the crime in the neighborhood.”

“You are probably right, Babe. I am going upstairs. Make me my night tonic and bring it up.”

“Of course, Sweetie.”

“And make sure you don’t waste time looking for a snack in the fridge.”

“I wouldn’t do that, Honey.”

“You’d better not. And I’d be able to tell because you’d have the scent of salami on your tongue.”

Retiring to the kitchen, Jared opened the cabinet and removed June’s favorite mug and placed it on the counter. Reaching underneath the sink, Jared retrieved the teapot from the closet and filled it with hot water. As he watched the teapot gradually build up a head of steam, Jared removed the flask from his pocket and emptied the contents into the bottom of the mug. A second later, he lifted the teapot off the stove and poured the water into the mug prior to depositing a bag of sleepy time tea into the boiling water.

Three minutes later, Jared entered his wife’s bedroom and handed her the mug of tonic plus the elixir. As he watched her drink from the mug, June suddenly looked up at Jared. She hopped out of bed and pushed him through the doorway. “Well! What are you gawking at? You gave me my tea. Now go to your room and go to sleep!” This message was punctuated by a slamming door.

Sometime later that night — perhaps in the wee small hours — Jared awoke to the sound of a flurry of activity within the house. Among the sounds that Jared was able to detect were vacuuming, the dishwasher running as well as cries from his wife. “Why can’t I stop cleaning? I want to go back to sleep, but I can’t stop cleaning.” Jared rolled over and went back to sleep.

He arrived downstairs the next morning to find his house was spotless. He was delighted to see the top of the dining room table, which he hadn’t seen for years. All the clothes had been put away and the room was utterly immaculate. As he walked to the kitchen, Jared’s was enticed to move forward by the smell of crispy bacon, pancakes and poached eggs. He looked over to see his bride, June, sitting at the table with a huge smile on her face.

Jared reached out his hand to his wife in a gesture of reason. “See that, Honey. When the house is tidy, then doesn’t the world look so much better.”

“Screw that,” said June.

“If you aren’t happy about the house being clean, then why are you smiling?”

“I wrote about a hundred pages of the novel, this morning.”

“Good for you, Sweetheart. See you just needed to work through that darn writer’s block.”

“Yep. And I happened to post two chapters online. You’ll never guess what happened after I did?”

“No. What happened?”

“A Book Publishing agency from Costa Rica forward me a fifty-thousand-dollar advance and they want to publish my book. And best of all, they want me to come down to Costa Rica and they are going to put me up in a luxury suite until I finish the book.”

“That’s terrific,” said Jared hesitantly. “But you mean that they want to fly us both down.”

“Oh no, Babe,” said June.

Jared watched as she put her hand on his face. With an expression of mock sympathy on her face, “I already spent some of the money on something special for you.”

“That was so nice of you. What did you get me?”

“I found someone who is going to cure your lazy procrastinating self permanently.”

Jared looked up to see tall figures in dark glasses coming into the house and wrapping their arms around Jared, leading him from his lovely abode. At the end of the path, Jared saw Mr. Flamebottom staring back at him.

“So sorry, my friend. Your wife has requested a complete personality wipe for you.”

“Please, please don’t wipe my mind,” said Jared.

Watching Jared being tossed in the back of a black windowless van, Mr. Flamebottom replied, “I am afraid that there's nothing I can do because her check did clear, this morning.”