The following story is true. The names of the characters have not been changed as I see no need to protect anyone, because this story is about me. Sounds so vain, I know. However, once you delve into the story you will see that it is anything but a right to brag. This is about a very bad weekend. No, not getting-caught-with-a-prostitute-on-TMZ kind of bad weekend, this was are-you-freaking-kidding-me-this-is-happening-now kind of bad weekend.

It all started with abandonment.

In just a few short days I said goodbye to my little girl (off with family to Colorado for a week and a half), my parents and brother (off to Disneyland. Seriously?), and my dear girlfriend left to a month long study abroad adventure in Jordan. My first thought, after making all goodbyes final, was similar to McCaulay Culkin’s character in Home Alone.

“I made my family disappear?”

Break out the junk food, pour me some apple beer, and bring on the hours of movies and gaming. Tomorrow was going to be the start of a bachelor weekend to remember!

The next morning I woke up eager to begin my day. Tossing the sheets aside I cracked my toes, stepped out of bed, and grabbing my 800 thread count pillow case, threw-up all the way to the bathroom.

I was sick.

I don’t get sick. I occasionally get sinus colds, indigestion, and the random bout of can’t-reach-the-remote-cause-i’m-sick-can-you-get-it-for-me-itis, but I never get sick. Also, this wasn’t oh my aching head sick. No, no, no. This was Dear Heavenly Father I’m grateful for all you’ve done for me, but at this time please drop a jet engine on me now, sick.

For three days, between work and home, I was a mess. The slightest clatter made me curl up into a ball of cringing agony. The toilet became my new friend. I was SO sick that I asked that very same toilet for help and hallucination or not, it responded.

Food had lost its luster, video games were too loud, and as for watching movies, well I would fall into a slobbering snoring coma before the FBI Warning faded. My big weekend, my ‘Ferris Bueller’ style weekend was shot to-

It wasn’t until Sunday that I began to feel a little better. Enough to be a functioning part of our society. I finally felt I was going to be able to accomplish some good at my job, so I went with a light heart. Today will be a good day at work, today will be a makeup day to my awful lonely days off. Today will be my bachelor day!

It was on this grand do-over day that I found myself talking to a customer. Aside from the sniffles and sounding like an eighty year old woman with a seventy year old smoking habit, I was hanging in there. How much worse could it get?

“Why yes, I can help you with-” I stop mid-sentence. An odd look falling upon my face.

The customer raises an eyebrow at my pause.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

I smile and nod. “Fine, just bit my cheek.”

Just so you are aware, the phrase ‘just bit my cheek’ is code for ‘Son of a biscuit, my tooth just came out of my mouth(!)’. It seems that during our brief conversation my tongue was playing with a tooth that had been acting rather odd lately. Tonguing its odd shape and texture had forced the tooth to suddenly fall, mid-sentence, onto my tongue.

First thought, Don’t swallow!

Second thought, Don’t spit it onto the customer!

Third thought, &$%#…%@$#…#$$!!!!!!

But being the good employee that I am, I stuck with it and spent the next twenty-five minutes assisting the customer…half of my tooth bobbing around in my mouth, threatening to launch out, with every syllable.

When my services were done, I ran to the bathroom and spit out the tooth. Then I made a call to the dentist…where I now sit thumbing this on my phone as I wait for the dentist to return with the verdict of my poor mouth.

Since the tooth was just a filling, the procedure should be fairly painless and the cost minimal. I’m feeling better. Today is Monday, the weekend is over. The onslaught has ended. My health is back, my tooth is being fixed, and I’m ready to attempt another Bueller style weekend later this week.

With music in my ears, I close my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief. Nothing more could possibly go wrong now.

“Great news John, you’ve graduated! You’re getting your first root canal!”

Dear Heavenly Father, seriously, what’s the delay on the jet engine?

-Token Single Guy