It Happened to Harry by Ken Kapp

1.

Harry had a bad night, sleeping fitfully. When he showered, the hot water came in spurts.

He nicked himself twice shaving. In the fogged mirror he thought he saw Ellen, his last

girlfriend, sneering. “You’ll always be a loser, Harry. That’s why I left. No future, can’t hold a

job more than six months.”

He dabbed the cuts with toilet paper and applied the styptic stick, muttering, “Any

wonder I had a bad night? And now this, first day at work and I’m already a bloody mess.” He

shook a finger at his reflection. “Stick to just black coffee and plain toast, Harry. In your

underwear! You’re always spilling coffee and dropping jam on your shirt.”

He dried carefully and returned to his bedroom. He laid out slacks and a button-down

oxford. Glancing at the bedroom clock, he put on clean underwear, then slipped on his bathrobe

before hurrying into the kitchen. Coffee on, toast in. He smiled – fifteen minutes ahead of

schedule.

He chortled. That’s what Ellen called it. “Harry, you’re always with that funny laugh,

chortling away when you think things are going right. Like you’re going to win some national

lottery. And then, whatever it is – it always goes wrong. So why don’t you give it up?”

He poured the coffee, chortling again, proud he had remembered to put ground coffee

beans and water in the pot last night. “Serves you right, Ellie. This is going to be a great job.

Perfect fit. Can already feel the 25-year Exemplary Service Watch wrapped around my wrist by

the CEO, ‘Great to have you with us, Harry. Good job!’”

He put a slice of cheese on the toast, telling himself he’d need protein to be sharp. He

stood over the counter not taking any chances with the coffee or with crumbs getting caught in

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his undershirt causing him to scratch later in the day. “Yeh, Ellie, I even cancelled the road trip

with my buddies for this. This is the new me, your bad luck, not mine.”

He brushed the crumbs off his robe, unaware of wet spots around the pocket where coffee

had splashed when he poured his second cup. He checked the time: still ten minutes.

He quickly returned to the bathroom to brush his teeth and recheck his face, cautiously

wiping away the white from his nicks and a couple of crumbs from his chin. He hung his

bathrobe on the door hook.

His watch dinged three times, sounding like a triangle in a kid’s marching band. The hell

with Ellie telling me to grow up. Five minutes.

He shut off the muted TV on the dresser, stopping for a moment to watch footage of a

tsunami inundating the coast of Japan.

Harry skipped down the steps and hurried around the apartment building to the car lot.

“Damn, damn, damn! Tell me this isn’t happening. Someone has stolen my car! It was

there last night.”