We have this problem wherein we have to write even when we have nothing to write about, which is pretty much all the time. So we make up stories. Like there was this guy (we'll call him Richard) who went to the doctor who told him he had to lose fifty pounds, fast, or he'd be fat. The doctor said to him, "Richard, lose fifty pounds, fast, or you'll be fat." Richard said, "So what you're telling me is, I'm fat." And the doctor said, "That's not what I'm telling you at all. I'm telling you to lose fifty pounds, fast, or you will be fat."
"In the future," said Richard.
"No, right now," said the doctor.
So Richard left the doctor's office, and he went and joined a gym. And he lost fifty pounds, fast. Then he went back to the doctor, who told him that he would have to gain fifty pounds, fast, or he would be thin.
"But thin is good," said Richard.
"Thin is neutral," said the doctor. "Thin can be good or thin can be bad, and in your case I think thin is potentially deadly."
So Richard quit the gym and ate lots of pizza, lots and lots of pizza, piled high with pepperoni and sausage and extra cheese.
Richard's wife was not a hair stylist, and this ate away at her. There is no more bitter person in the whole world than a person who wants to be a hair stylist but isn't. What she was was a person who gives back rubs for a living, and she took out all of her frustration at not being a hair stylist on the backs of the people she massaged.
She went to the doctor and the doctor said, "I've seen bitter people like you. I see them all the time. The bitterness eats away at your clavicles. Someday, and I'm talking someday soon, your clavicles will disintegrate and you will be a sorry sight indeed."
Richard's wife's name was Melinda. She came from a large family, every member of which lived in secret shame stemming from the days when their mother would drive them to school in a Ford Pinto.
Richard and Melinda met in high school. They married young, but didn't have children. Secretly, Melinda thought herself incapable of being a good mother. Secretly, Richard thought himself incapable of being a bad father. Secretly, what we're talking about here is a potentially rotten set of prospective parents.
They had a dog. The dog's name was Otto. He was a big dog, and hairy, and slobbery, and prone to licking his balls in front of the television set while Richard and Melinda were trying to watch "Celebrity Apprentice." When he wanted to go into the backyard he scratched at the kitchen door, and either Richard or Melinda would let him out.
Outside he would run in circles, faster and faster. He was chasing something, or being chased by something, he couldn't have told you which.