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Could It Be

"Could it get any worse?"
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I reached over and turned the radio up as I drove toward the office. At 5 am it was too early to even be awake, much less headed to work, but the boss had called. As his assistant, when he called I answered, anytime of the day or night. Annoying as it could be, the pay was worth it.

On this day, I thought about the vacation I had coming up. A friend and I were going to the Bahamas for five days of summer sun and fun. I stopped at the intersection a block from the parking garage as I thought about all of the things that needed doing before I could leave. About that time, I heard the screech of tires and I looked into my rear view mirror as a black sedan rear ended me.

“Damn.” I thought, “Now I am going to be late.”

I reached over and opened the glove compartment, looking for my insurance card. I found it, slamming the door shut. I turned and opened my door, cussing the entire time.

“Son of a bitch, can this day get any worse?”

Stepping out of the vehicle, I walked toward the other vehicle. The man was still bent over toward the glove compartment. As he sat up I noticed that he looked familiar. Before I realized who was in the vehicle I slammed my hand on the hood of his car angrily screaming at him.

“What kind of idiot are you, dumb ass? Didn’t you see me sitting there?”

His door swung open and he stepped out, “Actually, the light was green and you shouldn’t have still been there.”

I looked at him, my mouth agape. There before me was my boss, Michael.

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