I’m Not In A Bad Mood!!

Okay. I think we all knew that Skittery is a big pessimist, but I think this is the first time (or at least one of the first times) that he has been called evil. By my younger sister. What a pity, because guys who wear pink are certainly not evil. Or at least they don’t end up that way. Who knows how the start out. Anyroad, this is an account of Skittery’s very ‘evil’ day.

Getting smacked awake by Kloppman is not exactly the most fun or enjoyable way to wake up in the morning. But it was a constant reality for poor Skittery. It didn’t make him very happy, but he submitted to the daily torture anyways. And what was up with Racetrack thinking he’s the only person in the bathroom who needs the towel?! Skitts hardly ever got half of his face dry before the guy was hollering to have the thing passed to him. It was his own fault he used way too much soap. Skittery tried to make a joke out of the whole ordeal by demanding money for said towel. Though in the back of his mind he admitted he was halfway serious. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be paid money for a towel that wasn’t even theirs?

Walking to work every morning was a bore. Same route every day. Same streets, same barrels, same Mush doing the same back flips, sand the same old nuns. The nuns must have hated him or something, because they just wouldn’t give him any food. He always had to bribe Snitch to steal it from Dutchy. And Bumlets kept trying to beat him with a stick. So Skittery had taken Roosevelt’s advice and started to speak softly (most of the time, anyways) and carry a big stick. Bigger than Bumlets’s. So now there were daily fencing matches. Jack never noticed Bumlets trying to kill him. Skittery figured that he was too busy trying to remember the way to the distribution Office that he had used every single day for the past ten years. You had to cut him a little slack. Jack just wasn’t that smart.

Things at the Distribution Office generally weren’t too bad… unless he got stuck behind the inseparably inseparable duo. Or Blink and Mush for those who didn’t notice the fact that they walked together, sold together, talked together, ate together (Skitts suspected they might have slept together as well, but he kept this to himself) and were, in other words, never more than five feet apart and inseparably inseparable. They would have little whispered conversations about who knows what, and it freaked Skittery out. They might have been plotting to kill him, you could never be too careful…

He couldn’t complain about selling papers. Okay, well, he could, but… It at least had a little (Okay, well, a LOT) of variety. Sometimes he got beat up, sometimes he didn’t. Sometimes he could sell all his papes, sometimes he couldn’t. Sometimes it would rain or snow or hail or sleet or be foggy or windy. And sometimes it wouldn’t. He liked bad days, because they gave him something to complain about. Otherwise, he’d spend the whole evening at Tibby’s listening to everyone ELSE’S complaints. Skittery made sure to find at least five things every day (His record was thirty-seven.). It was something to think about while selling, and when he didn’t want to listen to the younger boys.

So you see, evil isn’t really the word to describe him. Skitts just got annoyed by everyone else, and for good reason. You don’t live in the same room with twenty some odd guys and not get irritated with them. Give Skittery a break; he has a lot to deal with. And if he’s complaining, don’t stop him. Who knows, maybe he’ll reach a new record.