Demotion

He drew the drapes, nothing caught his eye it seemed that yesterday had replicated itself, only today it had chosen a deeper of gray tint. On balance, it could have been the color of stale puke, for the night had up-chucked its darkness into a sickly yellow morning bucket of bile. Examining his mind, he ascertained by the laborious task of magnifying the inconsequential that he was not clinically depressed just bored. Later that day he bought a black puppy, to remind himself that he was apparently no longer the center of the universe, a position he had held to be inviolate until now. The demotion was irksome. He took the French Bulldog to Walmart, claiming loudly that it was a service animal for he had need of a dumb friend. His new dumb friend peed on him in the candy aisle and generally acted like it was the center of the universe, a notion reinforced by its many casual admirers. That dog was having a great day, and by the next day he felt it was quite acceptable to be its little helper and general factotum, for it absolutely beats trying to play God 7 days a week and no day of rest.