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    When Good Fortunes Go Bad
    When Good Fortunes Go Bad
    When Good Fortunes Go Bad
    Ebook61 pages59 minutes

    When Good Fortunes Go Bad

    By Dwayne Bearup

    ()

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    About this ebook

    The story of a man who takes his fortunes too seriously. After a couple come true, he comes to believe they are all true, and must be complied with.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDwayne Bearup
    Release dateJul 8, 2012
    ISBN9781476250168
    When Good Fortunes Go Bad
    Author

    Dwayne Bearup

    If you love books, you should certainly check out my Goodreads page - the link is on this page. It's free, and you can post lists of all the different books you have read, including mine... {*~*}.

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      Book preview

      When Good Fortunes Go Bad - Dwayne Bearup

      When Good Fortunes Go Bad

      Published by Dwayne Albert Bearup at Smashwords

      Copyright 2012 Dwayne Albert Bearup

      SMASHWORDS EDITION LICENSE NOTES

      This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      When he was fifteen, James Doyle’s parents knew he would be either an architect or a mental patient by his early twenties. It was close, but he managed to stay sane long enough for them to realize he would never survive high school. They let him take the GED at sixteen, then enrolled him in a mail order Computer Aided Drafting program. Two years later, diploma in hand, he went to work for a local architectural firm. A year after that, he decided to preserve his own sanity by starting his own firm, with a sane and forgiving partner and generous financial help from Mom and Dad.

      His parents died four years later, and he has been alone for most of the twenty-five years since, having never met a woman who could accept her inability to change him. Three tried to accommodate his quirks, but gave it up as a lost cause. None lived with him more than two months before deciding he was impossible. After his last relationship failure he added solitude to his growing list of preferences. The ensuing years had been lonely, but pleasant.

      The word most often used to describe him is Stubborn. While it is never said to his face, when he overhears it he always detects the capital. He doesn’t see himself that way, but he doesn’t complain when others describe him thus because the opinions of others affect him as a falling leaf affects an elephant. Besides, he never complains. Any source of irritation in his life is immediately corrected, eliminating any need for complaint.

      He always arrives early and stays late, and during the work day he rarely leaves his meticulous office. Despite assumptions, Doyle is not a workaholic. He just can’t stand to look at the mess in his employee’s cubicles, so he prefers to come and go while the lights are off. As for his partner, after a quarter-century he has memorized all Doyle’s preferences and finds it easier to accept them. (The success borne of having an obsessive-compulsive perfectionist for a partner eases the pain of this sacrifice significantly.)

      Doyle keeps the office at seventy degrees because he never removes his suit coat. Like his partner, their employees don’t complain about the cold. They’ve learned it’s easier to keep their coats on than to try to change his mind. He is not a harsh boss. In fact, none of his staff has ever heard him raise his voice and he has only ever fired one employee. He knows they think he has issues, but the higher wages and double benefits he offers means his preferences are never discussed in the office.

      He never buys mixed vegetables, and never eats salad, because colors should never mingle. At a classmate’s tenth birthday party, he threw up while looking into a bowl of M&M’s. It was the last party to which he was ever invited, and he has been content. His psychiatrist once questioned the apparent discrepancy between this abhorrence of color mingling and his ability to wear a black suit and white shirt. He replied, That’s why I don’t have mirrors in my house.

      Today is Tuesday. As always at precisely 11:58 he saves his work, turns off his computer, and turns on the radio, then swivels his chair so he can stare blankly across his desk. At noon, there is a knock on his door. - One knock. Not two, not three, and if you value your job not ‘shave and a haircut’. Doyle knows this is how his partner explains his lunchtime preference to the new hire, but he doesn’t care as long as it’s done right.

      As soon as he hears the knock he stands and touches his perfectly straight tie before calling - in an authoritative tone he once heard his father use - Come in.

      The glass door opens and a chubby young black-haired man enters far enough to place a white box tied with white string on the center of the mostly empty desk, balancing this with a bottle of water at each of the box’s nearest corners. Not until this is done does he say, Good afternoon, Mister Doyle.

      Good afternoon Henry. How are you? Settling in all right?

      "Oh, yes sir. It’s only been

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