Bob pruned his dying orchid while contemplating Valentine’s Day. He hated the “holiday” with more passion than he felt about any relationship he had ever been in. The only redeeming quality was the reduced-price chocolates the next day. He popped one such morsel in his mouth as he moved to the next morbid plant, one given to him by his ex. That’s when he had an epiphany! He knew how to make Valentine’s Day special for everyone. The following year he made ten thousand dollars selling dead flowers and bouquets to people who wanted that special something… for their ex.
Confectionery overload of monumental proportions
Anxious moment of will the flowers get there, or did I send the flowers
Not remembering to get reservations and now seeing lines
Doing all this work for a corporate sponsored holiday
Yet we still celebrate Valentine’s Day
Gary wiped his nose on the left sleeve of his t-shirt as he carried his twelve pack of Milwaukee’s Beast in one hand and smoked his off off brand of the week cigarette in the other. The twelve pack would have been getting heavy, but Gary had decided it was easier to carry a few of them beers on the inside, saving his arms. This was turning out to be a real crummy Valentine’s Day. Even the prostitute he usually used was busy doing some free lance work on the holiday. Gary couldn’t wait to get so stupid drunk that he wouldn’t wake up until Valentine’s was over.
Gary was about to lighten his load again when suddenly he heard that noise. He has heard it on and off for the past year, but he always blamed it on the beer. He began looking around, trying to see what could be making such a weird noise. It always happened when he was alone.
Suddenly a light appeared to be falling from the sky. As it got closer Gary began blinking his eyes rapidly. He knew his eyes, or the beer combined with those awful cigarettes must be playing tricks on him. At least that’s what he kept telling himself as what he could only describe as a spaceship hovered twenty feet overhead. The worst part about the whole thing was that Gary was having a déjà vu feeling. He ran for the forest, but the craft moved impossibly fast, cutting him off. Gary slowly backed up, his beer and cigarette held in front of him as charms to ward off this evil spirit. The spaceship was about the size of an eighteen wheeler and glowed faintly green. The hairs on his arm stood on end, the world turned blue, and then suddenly Gary blacked out.
When Gary came to, he was naked with a box on his lap. The empties from what had once been his twelve pack were scattered around him in a circle that faintly reminded Gary of that Stonehenge place he had watched on the Discovery Channel a couple of years back. The thought of missing out on drinking all those beers almost made Gary cry. Gary opened the box hoping that maybe there would be a beer or two that had survived. Unfortunately he revealed only an array of chocolates, a single red rose, slightly smooshed from being inside the box, and a folded note. The note read, ‘Happy Valentine’s Day. You were so good, we thought we should buy you chocolates and a rose. Love, GRA$@G34q’
Gary began to cry. At least someone loved him.