Worth A Change - A one-shot

One shot

That day Mr. Eaton woke up at 6:40 instead of 6:46, feeling like the world was coming to an end. The early morning sun burst through the curtains into his apartment in all its cheery splendour and he wondered who exactly he would have to kill to make it stop doing that. There were birds chirping in the trees right outside his window. Mr. Eaton hoped global warming would hurry up with incinerating the world while he thrilled in a short fantasy of watching the birds boil out of the sky and fall to the ground, charred crisp. A small smile appeared on his lips.

Now, why exactly did he wake up so early (feel the sarcasm?), you ask? Well, the reason was one Mr. Eaton had forgotten himself. But don’t worry, he’s about to remember in a few.

Our hero shot of the bed. It’s safe to assume he remembers now.

He grabbed his clock off the bedside table and stared at it. 6:47. Why, he had wasted hours! Today was a special day! Today was when his luck would finally change! Today was the one day all grown men dream of, the one perfect morning when all would be right!

How did our dear Mr. Eaton know all this, you wonder? Because he had it all planned out. He would make this day better. And how would he do that? By doing everything exactly different from what he did every day, of course! Wasn’t it a brilliant plan?!

By now I can see the wheels turning in your head. You wonder why ever would Mr. Eaton be so eager to change his life? Well, you see, Mr. Eaton was decided. Today was the day when Miss Alissa Winters would finally notice him and all the world could go hang itself!

Bearing this happy thought in mind, our man jumped out of bed and stretched. But, unbeknownst to him, his waking up exactly six minutes early had seriously hampered his coordination. So, just as Mr. Eaton’s hands stretched out, his muscles spasmed, quite irate at being put to work out of turn. He fell against the table with an almighty crash and almost cracked his neck against the wall. But apparently it was too early in the morning for mother nature to turn her bitchy face on and he escaped with said part of anatomy still attached. But…this was just the beginning of everything, if there ever was one.

As soon as he got into the shower, according to his list, he remembered he had to use a different shampoo. But as it happened, the only other shampoo he owned was one that really stung the eyes. So, when twenty minutes later the neighbours noticed through the open window a profusely cursing naked man blundering about in Mr. Eaton’s room, now you know what happened.

By the time he got out the door and to the kitchen counter, he already sported five new bruises (he had tried to wear his clothes right-limb first, not left, and hit the wall, chest of drawers and dressing table, in that order). Also, added to his splendid new collection was a burn right on the hairline where the blow-dryer, something he loathed to use but figured added to the new day, had blasted scorching air.

After he was collected his food and sat at the table, he couldn’t figure out if he had the strength to carry on with this madness or not (though his mind did lean considerably towards the ‘not’). Of course, that’s gotten you wondering what drove him almost over the edge, hasn’t it? Well, I ask you, won’t you feel the same if you had to force yourself to eat only one toast instead of the two you had each morning? No? Well… (narrator shrugs her shoulders) to each his choice, right? To Mr. Eaton, he would rather have stuck his finger in a switch board than do this. But to not do it would mean having to watch that despicable Asher McAllen, with his slick blond hair and devious smile, ask Miss Winters out.

Over my dead body, vowed Mr. Eaton as he picked his fork and knife resolutely and cut a precise triangle out of his toast, trying not to notice how his hands shook.

After breakfast, when he stood before the mirror adjusting his tie, he noticed he had put on the same aqua tie he always wore on Mondays. He mentally face-palmed. This wasn’t acceptable. This matter concerned Miss Winters and had to be dealt with the utmost caution! Such carelessness would be the death of him! So he trudged upstairs again and put on a turquoise tie instead. He was quite shocked at the monumental difference! For a moment he actually deliberated throwing up all over the carpet and giving up this crazy scheme altogether. But he squared his shoulders in resolution and pushed the cowardly thoughts away. He was the marketing consultant in Redmond Enterprises and he would not be afraid!

So, after smoothening the severe part in his hair (which was made in the side rather than the middle like every day), he made his way out the door exactly two minutes later than normal, feeling especially proud of himself at this rebellious action. There was no way Miss Winters won’t notice him now! No way in hell! He was so changed!

The walk down the carpeted staircase of the apartment complex (the elevator being out of order since forever) was another round of torment for Mr. Eaton that he had to ignore or forever keep his silence while watching Miss Winters become Mrs. McAllen. For one, having left the house early, he hadn’t foreseen the old woman from next door (damned unorganised hag!) would be coming out at exactly the same time too. So Mr. Eaton found himself stuck behind the old crook, who he knew walked slower than normal on purpose. As they slowly inched downwards, he deliberated over whether it would be worth the jail-time to pick up and pitch her over the railing. He could almost feel his hands sweat in anticipation.

He tried to cough a couple of times to get her attention but to no avail. So, about fifteen minutes later, a crookedly smiling smelly old witch and a very disgruntled Mr. Eaton came out the front doors of the building, one running and the other walking at a leisurely pace, quite satisfied with herself.

Now, Mr. Eaton didn’t own a car. His office was too close for him to need one. So, off he went down the street, past coffee shops delicately spicing the air with the delectable aroma of roasted beans and vehicles screaming their discordant horns. Another change he employed (it was the day of changes!) was to walk on the other side of the street rather than the one he usually took. Sadly, halfway down, he stepped into the collecting bowl of a beggar (how was it his fault? There never had been one on his usual side!), and then got almost run over by an eccentric teenager on roller-skates. As he picked himself off the ground and shouted profanities after the rapidly dwindling figure, he had to wonder if Miss Winters was worth dying over. He had never understood how people died for others in movies and wasn’t a big fan of the action. As far as today was concerned, he had a feeling his conviction would be strongly tested.

This assumption (for it only delicately skirted the truth) was accentuated when along the way he got barked at by a dog, shouted at by a grocer and then once again almost run over by a car. Also, the dog had taken the time to rip a sizable chunk off Mr. Eaton’s newest dress-pants and pee over his brown formal shoes.

So, the apparition that finally made its way into the lobby of Redmond Enterprises had neither the hair-part it started with, nor the clean and hopeful soul it boasted only hours ago. Instead, he had seaweed hanging from his head (he could explain that!), ripped pants dragging over the marble floor, suspiciously smelling shoes and a scratch across the cheek from where a too low shop’s awning had attended.

As he hobbled towards the reception out of habit, seconds away from just passing away and waking up at hell’s doors, he didn’t notice a long, lean pair of legs run forward and catch him as he tottered. But of course the said pair wasn’t strong enough to hold the weight of a grown man and crumbled, taking him along. The legs, using hands they also possessed, wiped hair out of his face. Two giant aqua eyes looked down with concern.

“Mr. Eaton? Are you okay?”

“Tired…” our hero mumbled before passing out. For a moment he strongly suspected he had accomplished something though he knew not what.

But Miss Alissa Winters, looking down at the dishevelled man with a soft look (after making sure he was alright), did know. He looks cute this way, she thought. Wonder what happened…