Nothing Short of Perfect

maybe a story in many chapters, or maybe a future unfinished novel.


Danny wasn't perfect, but then no one is. among Danny's many colorful imperfections that made him unique like everyone else was that Danny was a perfectionist. Webster defines a perfectionist as "someone who gazes upon the humbling beauty and wonder of the natural world and says 'gee, I'd really like to landscape that'". but Danny didn't like being defined by his friend Webster Johanson, or anyone else, which is probably the only thing that kept Danny from selling all of his possessions to move to Wyoming and tap Old Faithful for lawn sprinklers in what would then be known as Yellowstone National Golf Course. not that Danny didn't have ample opportunity to practice his perfectionism. as the manager of a local Arby's franchise Danny was fortunate to have a simple and clearcut definition of perfection at his disposal: that which is written in the memorandums handed down from the corporate gods is the perfection that must be trembled before. and though those decisions were frequently subject to contradiction and revision, that too was perfect. for Danny knew deep down in his heart of hearts that, contrary to his personal philosophy, all things in the universe are perfect as they are, and that change and flux, being common amongst all things, does not make them less perfect, but in fact reaffirms their perfection. therefore, to Danny's mind, a contrary order from his corporate masters was if anything the height of perfection. of course Danny's philosophy also allows that his decision to clock the regional manager on his recent visit to Danny's 200 square foot fiefdom after he jumped down Danny's throat for not putting up signage that through no fault of his own (and much fault on the part of the regional manager) hadn't been shipped yet, well that too was an act of perfection.

sadly the corporate office didn't see it that way, and Danny was promptly fired. thus began a magical journey which would take Danny from the wilds of a suburb just outside of town, to the gleaming white corridors of a local supermarket to pick up a can of baked beans. along the way he would encounter strange mystical panhandlers and a spritely supermarket trainee who would aide him in his quest for the baked beans.

after that was over he stopped off at his favorite bar to have a few drinks and shoot the shit with Webster.

2 b cont.