"Goddamnit, Franklin," he said to his reflection, "you are going to have a good day!"
Franklin never had good days. Today, however, would be different.
When he returned to the bedroom his clothes were already laid out on the bed for him. Hummingbirds had flown through the open window and done the dressing for him. The hummingbirds had picked an outfit as follows; one pair of khaki trousers, one white oxford shirt, one burgundy sweater-vest, one tweed sports coat, one navy-blue neck tie, two brown leather wingtip shoes, two argyle socks and one sparkling white pair of underpants.
Franklin dressed and gazed at himself in the full-length mirror on the back of his closet door. It was the best he had ever looked in his life.
"Goddamnit, Franklin," he said to his reflection, "it is going to be a beautiful day!"
He went into the kitchen to fix breakfast, but the hummingbirds had already done it for him. Laid on the kitchen table was as follows; one glass of orange juice, one steaming cup of coffee, one sliced and sugared pomegranate, three pancakes, two eggs (over easy), two pieces of bacon and two golden-brown pieces of Texas toast.
Franklin sat at the table. Next to the breakfast spread was the Friday New York Times crossword and pen. Franklin completed his meal and the puzzle with ease. It was the first time he had ever solved the Friday crossword. He smiled to himself. Above the puzzle he wrote, "Eat shit, New York Times Friday crossword!" He got up from the table without clearing the dishes. He figured the hummingbirds might take care of it.
He mussed his hair in the front hallway mirror, and said to his reflection, "Goddamnit, Franklin, today is going to be an EXCELLENT day!"
He walked outside and got into his 1992 Mitsubishi Eclipse. The old beater started with ease. Every traffic signal he encountered on the way to work was green.
When Franklin entered the office, Charlotte, the secretary, greeted him. None of the lights were on.
"Hey Frank," she said, "you look great today!"
It was the first time anyone had called him Frank.
"Thanks Charlotte," he responded in kind, "you're looking stunning, as usual." Although it was dark and hard to tell, Franklin was very sure that she blushed.
"What's the deal with the lights?" he asked.
"The powers out. They found some dead hummingbirds in the electric panel. They chewed through the wires. It won't be fixed until tomorrow, so everyone gets to go home."
"Everyone except you?"
"Yes, I have to stay and send everyone home."
"Well, alright..." Franklin turned to leave. He was arrested by his good-looking reflection in the glass door. Goddamnit, Franklin, he thought to himself. He turned around.
"Say, Charlotte, will you be off of work by four?"
"I certainly hope so, why do you ask?"
"We should meet up at the bar across the street for happy hour. We can have a few drinks."
"Sure," she smiled, "sounds great."
"See you at four then?"
Franklin left the office. He didn't want to go home. He went to the park instead. He laid down in the cool grass and soon he was asleep...
He was awakened by the chirping of hummingbirds. He checked his watch. It was 3:45. He brushed off his clothes and ran to the bar.
Charlotte was already inside, nursing a gin and tonic. She smiled at him and he joined her at the table. Franklin ordered a scotch and water.
Happy hour was over by six and they both were getting hungry.
"How about I cook us dinner, back at my place?" he suggested. Charlotte agreed. He paid the tab. He figured he was a handsome guy so he decided to tip handsomely. Charlotte was quite impressed and they left the bar arm in arm.
When they got to the apartment, the breakfast dishes had been cleaned and put away. On the table was as follows; one large roast, one garden salad, one freshly baked loaf of bread, one bowl of baked and quartered potatoes, two glasses of champagne and two lit candle sticks.
"How did you manage to do that Franklin? Are you magic?" chimed Charlotte.
"Must've been the hummingbirds..." he answered. She laughed. They enjoyed the meal together.
After they were finished, Franklin excused himself from the table and went to the bathroom. He splashed cold water on his face and combed his hair again.
"Goddamnit, Franklin," he said to his reflection, "today will be the greatest day of all time!"
Charlotte was lying seductively on the bed when he exited the bathroom.
"Who were you talking to in there?" she asked.
"Oh no one, just the hummingbirds..."
Franklin lost his virginity that evening, and Charlotte never knew the difference.
K. Foolish is a nineteen year old, two-time-published poet from Connecticut.
Bay Laurel / Volume 1, Issue 2 / Winter 2012