Loose change / Karen Carbone Kraut

He was running a little late if he hoped to stop at the bank and still make it to work on time.

Bounding up the platform stairs, two at a time, the extra weight in his messenger bag became all the more evident. He almost tripped while trying to steady the suddenly swinging pendulum hanging from his shoulder but steadied himself on the hand railing and saved certain disaster before emerging from the subway station into the frosty Manhattan morning.

Double-timing it across 6th avenue despite a traffic signal that suggested otherwise, he headed to the bank. He thought it best to get there early rather than deal with a potential line at lunch. The only thing more depressing than spending an evening meticulously counting loose change would be a chance encounter with a coworker while waiting in line at the bank holding multiple rolls of nickels.

He was planning how he'd properly finance the next three days with just three pounds of change when he heard the first metallic splash behind him. Odd, he thought. Before his mind had a chance to process the immanent tragedy the second splash confirmed the now creeping dread but by then it was too late. He turned around just in time to see the last of the fifty dimes from the first broken paper roll come to rest on the sidewalk some 15 feet behind him. The busted roll of pennies that was the second splash appeared to be salvageable. Perhaps he could escape this rapidly deteriorating scene yet. While examining the messenger bag for the method of the coins' escape the remaining money (two rolls of quarters, a roll of dimes, and a roll of nickels) spilled from the undetected hole in the bottom left corner. Each roll exploded upon impact, creating an ever expanding perimeter of copper, zinc, nickel, and shame.

Now on his hands and knees, he scrambled in futile fashion to complete two opposing tasks - clean the sidewalk of this unsightly, worthless mess and recover as much of his net worth as quickly as possible. His only hope was that the countless shoes he saw walk on by wouldn''t belong to the same people that he'd see at the bank, over lunch, where he hoped to have his pockets filled with $42.50 of uncounted and unrolled, loose change.

Excuses to use McDonald's bathroom without purchase of a meal/ Maurice Hodktd

-Although I'm not purchasing food here now, the food I currently need to shit was indeed purchased here. I have the receipt.

-Burger King bathroom doesn't have a bidet.

-Where else am I supposed to wash these newborn pups?

-But Steve wrote some exceedingly derogatory remarks about me right above the hand dryer and I just came up with the ideal retort.

-On a scavenger hunt. Need clown feces.

-I'm with the Demon Squad. Your bathroom mirror is suspected to be portal to 5th layer of hell.

-I'm homeless and need somewhere to sleep. This is my absolute low point before my dramatic rebound and eventual climb to national recognition as a 5 time grammy winner for best R&B artist. My story will be made into a movie and this very scene with this very bathroom will be a vital point in the film. I'm offering you the role of yourself and 10% on all T-shirt royalties.

-I think I may have left my baby in there.

Actual straight-faced conversation I had with my wife the other day / Lionel Truthobel

Me: We got some time before the bus comes. I think I might go and get something we can eat on the way.

Wife: Where are you going to go?

Me: There’s that Quiznos a few blocks down. That work for you?

Wife: Yeah.

Me: What kind of sandwich do you want?

Wife: Do they have veggie?

Me: I would imagine so.

Wife: Then I’ll have that. With whatever veggies they have, mustard and mayo.

Me: What if they don’t have a veggie sandwich?

Wife: Then I guess I’ll have turkey.

Me: And what would you want on the turkey sandwich?

(after a brief moment of consideration)

Wife: I guess whatever veggies they have, mustard and mayo.

Me: On wheat?

Wife: On wheat.

Thoughts as I fall from the roof of a building after slipping on a banana peel / Midge Mayhem

Well, this is embarrassing.

I guess that's what I get for horsing around on the roof of a 120 floor building.

Although I gotta say the punishment of certain death seems a little extreme.

Wow! This is windier than I expected. Really quite annoying.

Slipping on a banana peel. What a way to go out!

It sure beats dying of cancer or getting stabbed in the gut after being robbed. I mean, at least I get the pleasure of pondering the irony. Both hilarious and tragic!

Who disposes of their banana peel on the roof of a 120 story building anyway?

Sure would like to have a strong word or two with that dick head.

People will probably think I committed suicide.

That's unfortunate. . .

On the other hand it may be preferable to the notion that I simply slipped.

I guess I need to decide if I want my family and friends to think I was really depressed or really stupid.

If there was only a way I could tell them that I slipped on a banana peel. . . I think they'd appreciate that.

I have piece of paper in my back pocket here. I wonder if I have a pen?

[checking coat pocket for pen]

If anyone is watching me fall right now they're probably asking themselves, "Is that guy reaching into his coat pocket looking for something?"

Ha! If only I had a pair of reading glasses I could put on or a cigarette I could try to light.

That would be classic!

I'd be a YouTube sensation. Go all viral and shit!

Well, no pen. Must have left it on my desk. Oh well. So much for that idea.

I wonder if my cheeks are doing that flappy thing?

Coming close to the ground here. I guess I should brace myself?

Hmm. Feet first or head first?

I'll go with head. No need to try to make this look prettier than it's going to be.

Should I yell something?

Maybe "Heads Up!" or "Coming through!"

I guess it should be something more poignant seeing as they'll be the last words I'll utter. . .

Perhaps, "Glory be to Jesus!" or "U.S.A. U.S.A.!"

No. I'm going to go with something that cements my legacy. Something more personal. A quick statement that, when relayed to my friends and family, will result in both the nodding of heads in a solemn fashion as well as faint smiles of respect and deep understanding.

"Tell everyone life is like a banan-"

!!!SPLAT!!!

Feelings toward the park guy / Bryce Meals

Oh hi!

I'm the guy that just took his shirt off at the park. Judging by frequent glances I see you tossing in this direction I'm guessing you're not quite sure what to make of me. I understand. Take your time.

No doubt your first inclination was to dismiss me as douche bag. Most guys who take their shirts off in parks are. But the fact that I did NOT do so after first standing and stretching and slowly rotating in a self-absorbed display giving all within a fifty foot radius a eyeful whether they wanted one or not surely gives you pause. No, I remained seated on my blanket and disrobed of my top layer in as discreet of method that can be reasonably expected given the surroundings. But not too discreet either. Still confident but not over confident by any stretch of the means. I also did look genuinely hot and uncomfortable so the shirt removal can be deemed as justifiable. Hmm. What to make of me.

I don't have six-pack abs so it's not as if I trying to show off a brilliantly sculpted body. I'm also not one of those "comfortable in my own skin" fat asses who subjects onlookers to a gut so ample it fails to respond to heavy inhal/exhalations with any movement whatsoever. My girth neither fascinates nor repels, yet you can't look away.

Not quite ready to decide yet? OK fair enough. Have you noticed my shorts? No pleating or plaid to speak of so there goes any hope at comfortably dismissing me as a dork or preppy. Even more perplexing is the absence of cargo, frayed or otherwise, so unfortunately I can't be classified as a stoner or meat head. These shorts are indeterminable in terms of brand name, style, and purchase price. For all you know they could be designer shorts fresh off the Milan runway or those of the $5.99 variety I shoplifted from Target.

Pretty much the same story with my shoes.

Even now as I stand to acknowledge the arrival of a female acquaintance you can't seem to peg as a friend, lover, or former lover your feelings towards me remain as allusive as ever. Assuming for a moment that this woman is my girlfriend would that even help? I mean her face is cute enough but her chest is a little underwhelming to say the least. OK ass. Plus you're not seeing a whole lot in terms of affection between me and this mystery woman so perhaps she's just a friend. She's got kind of an annoying laugh to be a close friend though. Maybe she's my sister. Yeah that's probably it. But then again, what do you think about a guy just hanging out in the park with his sister. It's nice I guess but defiantly not awesome or anything.

So where do we stand, you and I? You think I'm cool don't you?

I'm certainly charming enough. At least it appears that way. Even though I'm not within earshot folks nearby seen genuinely amused by my banter. Well there's one guy that looks a little put off but he's wearing linen pants so he's most certainly an asshole. In fact, his disapproval even helps my cause. If assholes hate me then you should like me because you're not an asshole. You hate assholes. Although the fact that I'm talking loudly enough for others to overhear while not wearing a shirt certainly doesn't bode well, regardless of how witty and personable my demeanor may be.

Admit it. You hate me.

Well, looks like it's time for me to go as I put back on my t-shirt at such an angle that it doesn't give you the pleasure of seeing if it happened to promote any band or product that I may have a strong opinion about. Sorry about that. Doesn't look like this is going to get settled today my confused friend. Perhaps next time I'll wear some kick ass sunglasses or a super gay hat that helps tip the scale one way or the other. Until then either loathe or enjoy the periodic visions of my sweat speckled chest, neither toned nor flabby, and the ceaseless second-guessing that comes with it.

My name is Adam if that helps. I know it doesn't.