I went to sleep with gum in my mouth and then I woke up with gum in my hair and also a sense of relief that I’m not the target of an oppressive criminal justice system. But still, I had gum in my hair. I could already tell it was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
At breakfast, my brother Anthony found a Corvette Mini-Ray race car in his cereal box and Nick found an Undercover Agent code ring in his cereal box but I didn’t get any prize in my cereal box except for the forever prize of not having to think about the color of my skin on a daily basis. But I would’ve liked a race car. Chalk it up to my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
At school, Mrs. Dickens said I sang too loud during music class. This made me feel terrible and horrible. I felt even worse when I remembered that the indie-pop EP I would one day release using my family’s connections and resources was still years away. Aw brother. As if my day wasn’t terrible enough already!
At snack time, I opened my lunchbox to find lima beans. I hate lima beans. My mom packs my lunch because she can afford to stay home since she has benefitted from generations and generations of well-compensated employment. But lima beans? Gross!
At recess, Jimmy said that his father had been pulled over because he matched the description of a Black man the cops were after. At two o’clock, Jimmy had to go to the county prison to vouch for his father because his mom was busy working her second job. I guess Jimmy and I were both having terrible, horrible, no good, very bad days.
At the bus stop, I by mistake whistled at a girl and she stormed over to me all red in the face. But then she became my girlfriend. We went to her house and her parents immediately accepted me as one of their own. They offered to me a high-level job with their family business one day but I said I didn’t need it. Then I said I had to leave because I was in the middle of my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad daaaayugh.
From there I went to the bank and wandered into a vault. The security guard ran up to me, which is so typical given the day I was having. But instead of getting me in trouble, he gave me a free TD Bank visor and asked if I wanted to see what a hundred-dollar bill looked like. The money was OK, I guess. But it still wasn’t cool enough to change my Terrible. Horrible. No good. Very bad. Day.
Then I went to city hall and submitted paperwork to run for public office. It was easy, really. I just told people I would get rid of things I never used before like social security and Medicaid, and they eagerly signed my petition. It wasn’t hard to fund my campaign either, since it turns out everyone I know also benefits from generations of well-compensated employment. But then, out of the blue, all these mean people starting saying bad things about me. Ugh. Of course they’d do that on my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
I had to get away, so I Ubered to the airport and got on a plane. That was easy, too. I just told TSA I lost my passport and they said, “Fine, fine, no problem, sir.” Once we boarded, I went into the cockpit and told the pilot to reroute the flight to Australia. “I think I’d like it there,” I said. But by the time we landed in Perth, there were police officers waiting for me. Oh great, I thought. Just when I thought my day couldn’t get worse.
Then while I was in custody waiting for my mom to pick me up, the police officers served me dinner. Grilled cheese with lima beans. Perfect. Just the perfect way to cap my terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.
Anyway, my agent just told me I got a book deal. Maybe tomorrow will be better.