I Shall Remain an Unhappy Camper

I am not happy. I cannot afford to be. I am doomed to misery because I am unable to come up with $15.99 plus tax to buy the magazine I saw today on a rack at Walmart. On the cover, in blazing big letters, was this announcement: The Secret to Being Happy.

I always knew there was a secret and furthermore, I knew that everyone in my life was conspiring to keep me from finding out what the secret was. I don’t know why they would do that but they obviously did it for some terrible reason. That really bugs the hell out of me.

For a mere $15.99 plus tax, I could finally discover this secret. But I have in my wallet, only $5. Maybe if I gave a Walmart clerk my $5, she would let me look inside the magazine for a few minutes and I might at least score a smidgen of happiness.

In smaller print on the magazine cover is the declaration that new scientific findings are leading the way to happiness. I have no idea what those findings are and I guess I never will.

And even if I could somehow see those scientific findings, the chances of my understanding them are not good as I am not much of a scientist.

They say money can’t buy happiness but apparently, thanks to Walmart, $15.99 plus tax will do the trick.

Oh well. Guess I’ll just stay miserable. Doesn’t seem as though I have much choice. I do know some happy people. Maybe I’ll just hang around them for a while and hope some scientific findings rub off on me.

They’re the kind of folks who always carry $15.99 plus tax with them in the event of an emergency such as this.

©2017 Jim Hagarty

Author: Jim Hagarty

I am a 72-year-old retired journalist, busy recovering from a lifelong career as an unretired journalist. This year marks a half century of my scratching out little fables about life. My interests include genealogy, humour and music. I live in a little blue shack in Canada and spend most of my time trying to stay out of trouble. I am not that good at it. I also spent years teaching journalism. Poor state of journalism today: My fault. I have a family I don't deserve, a dog that adores me, and two cars the junk yard refuses to accept. My prized possessions include my old guitar and a razor my Dad gave me when I was 14 and which I still use when I bother to shave. Oh, and my great-great-grandfather's blackthorn stick he brought from Ireland in the 1850s. I have only one opinion but it is a good one: People take too many showers.