a vignette by
ROBERT PENICK | Court Administrator + Writer

 Photo by Iz zy

IT’S SIX IN THE MORNING and you’re making a pizza. It’s either that or hit the grocery for beer or think of a clever way to suicide yourself.  Wal-Mart only sells rope in fifty-foot boxes, and what to do with the other forty-six? The barbeque chicken pizza looks pretty pathetic when freed from its box, so you spend nine minutes at the cupboard, looking for reinforcement toppings. Mushrooms, it is. The can is ripped open, guts splattered across the crust, and the lonely can of black olives, in its dark pantry corner, remains intact for another day.  Now, slide it in for eleven to fourteen minutes.

Oh, now, what to do with the time? Check Facebook for new friend requests or, perhaps, sketch the day’s itinerary. Or check the local weather in anticipation of a brisk walk later in the morning. After twelve minutes spent looking at memes, the timer bings and you retrieve the pie. Cutting it into pieces, you nip into a sample, and it’s not too shabby for under four dollars.  You sit at the kitchen table, enjoy the slice, and think What am I gonna do today? Off work, the next twenty-four hours are a gift.

One half-hour and two slices later, you are back in bed. At noon you wake up, finish the pizza, and look at baseball scores online. Your inbox is empty, and no one has looked at your eHarmony profile in the twenty hours since you last checked. You look at the women, and they are all too pretty, too wealthy, or too well-adjusted for a guy like you.

Day cancelled due to lack of interest.

You head back to bed, wondering, “Why doesn’t anything good ever happen?

Enjoy more of Robert’s work at his website,