How I Lost my Happiness

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(I wanted to make the title, “How my Happiness was Snatched from my Grasp and Thrown out the Window of a Moving Vehicle,” but it was a bit too long.)

Recently my brother, Tim, wrote a blog post about an adventure we had together. He seemed to think that it was a happy and fun time, and it might have been for him. But while he was enjoying himself, I was experiencing the most sad moment of my life. Here’s my side of the story.

The first thing you need to know is a little something about this place called Moomers. The classical definition would say that Moomers is an ice cream shop, but that’s far too limited. Moomers is located on a hill right above the dairy farm from which its products come. They sell an experience there; that experience is happiness in a cone. So when I asked Tim, “Hey, want to go get some Moomers,” it was a big deal. This wasn’t just asking him if he wanted to go get something to eat or climb a tree with me. This was more akin to asking if he wanted to make babies with me, well, at least in the level of seriousness of commitment.

When we set out, itt was a dark and stormy night, well, actually it was a bright sunny day. That was why I wanted to get ice cream in the first place, and why get just ice cream when you can have happiness in a cone. So we set out and actually managed to get to Moomers without any major navigation errors, which is a minor miracle in itself.

When we got there, he ordered his happiness in a bowl and I ordered mine in a cone: Everything was good in Moomerland. But then I realized I needed a specific item before tomorrow. Worse, I needed to have this item and be back to camp with it by 10:30 that night, and my watch told me it was already 9.

So I told Tim that we were going to Walmart; he was okay with the idea, and we headed off. I even managed to get some directions from a guy I knew who also happened to be seeking happiness that night. Everything seemed to be going fine.

So I followed the directions I had been given. And kept following. Kept following. Still following the same road.

I want you all to note that at this point, Tim was still completely unaware of our predicament. He was blissfully licking his way through his happiness while I did the hard work of both driving and navigation. I was okay with this setup, though, because he agreed to hold my cone for me. You see, I was driving a stick-shift car, and couldn’t hold it myself.

Finally, as we drove past Walgreens with bullet holes in the glass, (For my Flint readers, just remember that stuff like that is a lot less common in Traverse City– and everywhere in the world– than in Flint.) I realized we were lost and decided to clue Tim into that fact. He promptly looked up, glanced around and said, “We were supposed to turn somewhere back there.” Thanks for the warning, Gilligan.

So we turned around– illegally. Don’t worry, I only killed one small child, and nobody saw that. We headed in the other direction for at least ten minutes before I realized that I still hadn’t the slightest clue where we were. What the heck Traverse City? I’m pretty sure we somehow ended up in a quantum state, and nobody bothered to observe our displacement. That seems like the most logical explanation for this impossibility.

Anyways, this is when I asked Tim to get out the gps. It seemed a reasonable request. After all, I had just driven him to Moomers. Because of me he was eating happiness in a bowl at that moment. Do you know what he said? He said no.

“Tim,” I repeated, “I need you to get the gps out of the glove-box so we don’t end up in Ontario.”

“No, I can’t do that, Adam.”

“It’s a simple thing. All you have to do open the latch, grab the gps, and stick it to the windshield. Don’t tell me you can write beautiful words into being but can’t do this.” I was starting to get angry.

He gave me a long look and then deliberately rolled down the window. I had no idea what was coming. Nonchalantly, he tossed my ice cream cone out that window.

My spirit was broken in that instant. I remember very little of the rest of the night; Tim claims we eventually made it to Meijer (How did that happen?) and that I enjoyed myself there with him, but I don’t see how that’s possible. How can you enjoy anything when you don’t have your happiness anymore?

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