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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Dark · #2269992
There's something to be said for celebrating the least celebratory day of them all...
"My mom died." Applicant #137 said bluntly. A few people clapped politely, but most had already heard some variant of the theme. Many of the earlier applicants had done it more justice, with flair and drama. Applicant #43 had read a poem and burst into tears at the end, for example.

Applicant #138 took to the stage, looking around at the audience. A few had drinks at the hand, many looked bored, only a few peered curiously up at the stage at the awkwardly dressed newest arrival. The jaded, looking for that rare once-a-year entertainment sort, waiting with building anticipation for the WDE to win all WDEs.

"So, I woke up today and stepped in dog crap." He started. A few people jumped the gun and began to clap him off.

"Now what made it weird is, I don't have a dog." He continued. They paused, interest piqued. "So I rolled out of bed and immediately my first thought is, why is there doggie doodoo on my new blue shoe?" A few chuckles at the rhyme encouraged him to go on. He held up a foot, showing off the offending blue paper slipper, slightly marred brown.

"So I ask around, and nobody even believes me. Dogs aren't allowed in the facility, clearly I'm just crazy. Which is true, but I know dog droppings when I see them. I keep looking around, and finally I find Jeff. He's institutionalized because he believes he's a different animal every day, and today, sure enough, he thought he was a dog."

A few more laughs, he had their interest.

"Now I get a release form to go down to the laundry across the street and have them wash my shoe. Why they didn't just issue me a new pair, I don't know. Budgeting, I suppose. So I go with my escort, Nurse Sam; he's a great guy but easily distracted."

Especially by the ladies, you know." He dropped a heavy wink. "And the girl who works at the laundry, she's a real looker. So while Sam is out chatting with her, I realize I can go hop on a bus and be free."

He paused, dramatically. "See, being in a mental health home isn't fun. Every day is the worst day there, and nobody ever celebrates it. So I thought to myself, why not go share the misery?"

"So here I am, with caked crap on my foot from a human who thinks he's a pet. I'm tired and lost, because I've been locked away since I was a teen and don't even know where I am. I've got a ripping headache. I'm literally violently ill, and there's no help for me. Guy at the front just said, 'Fresh out of the hospital, eh? Good enough, go on in.'"

A few people coughed, their attention waning.

"Oh, and for the icing on the cake, I got mugged and stabbed on that bus by a guy who didn't realize I had nothing to steal, and I've been off my meds for at least twelve hours. I actually ended up profiting from the exchange, since it was still embedded in me when he spooked and ran away. So: worst day ever?"

A few hoots. Well, at least he did better than the guy before him. He sighed and fell back to his plan B. With a snick, the knife he had claimed from the thug unfolded. He looked down into the crowd thoughtfully, picking a target, then dove off the stage, screaming.

Curiously, he was the only one.

The last thing he heard from this crowd before he gave in to the voices was cheering. The woman he had chosen beamed up at him as he fell into her embrace, crimson gushing from her lips. She mouthed three words at him before she died. He turned to the man she had arrived with, weapon flashing out. The unfortunate lover simply grinned and pumped his fists, mouthing those same words.

#138 wondered why the world thought he was crazy. Clearly, he fit in too well, if the next two to fall to his blade with only triumphant laughter and a thumbs up were to go by.

Several were trying to leave -- he saw #137 and #96 in the rush for the exit, trampled underfoot and forming new stories they'd be able to tell next year if either survived -- but an overwhelming number of people were not budging. They rose from their seats instead, hooting and chanting the words that had gathered them together. In their exuberance, they preemptively crowned this year's winner.

And yet, for everyone's Worst Day Ever, they sure were having far too much fun.
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