Win your other half in three dates.
980-789-0501
~ "The Date Doctor"
A boy on the corner of a bustling New York City street flipped the business card in his hand in anxiety as he waited in line for his daily dose of a loaded hot dog. His day had gone quite the same as every other day, he supposed, except drastically different. He had gotten out of bed, did his hygiene routine, watched tv so long that he was too late for breakfast, went to a few dull meetings for his job that made him question why he ever applied in the first place, complained about the love of his life over coffee with a fellow employee who couldn't possibly understand his situation seeing as he was just recently happily married, and was handed a strange business card from the said happily married fellow employee.
He was told to, "think about it," and was given no further instruction from there. There wasn't much to be confused about for sure, what wasn't to be understood about "the date doctor?" It was a rather self-explanatory title. What was confusing, however, was what he should do with it.
Sure he'd complained about his love life- or lack thereof- on many an occasion with a multitude of people (mostly strangers at a bar) and that was very pathetic of him. But should he call someone as utterly ridiculous sounding as "The Date Doctor?" Should he really stoop to that level of patheticism?*
*A word proudly invented by himself
Patheticism (adj.) - [puh-thet-iss-ism] the act, practice, or process of being pathetic
His concentration on the business card was broken by the heavy Italian accent of the owner of the hot dog stand, "The usual, Lucas?"
He nodded and muttered, "It's just Luke."
He set the business card down on the stand's stainless steel counter while he dug through his wallet to see if he had the exact change. Five dollars and exactly forty-nine cents were found and were about to be exchanged for a delectable hot dog when the lousy business card decided to picked up along the wind and be gently carried down the street. This was it. He could leave it. He really could.
His exact change flew in the face of the stand owner and the boy bolted down the street in search of the precious business card (somehow the hot dog was grabbed and later dropped and later picked up again by a stray dog in the midst of all the chaos).
YOU ARE READING
At Least Pizza Will Never Hurt Me
Fanfiction*loosely based on the fantastic rom-com Hitch because why not, I will not be using the plot, just the concept* Dating. "What is the purpose of dating?" one may ask. While many these days go on dates just to "get some", there are some people who stil...
