Harry Applies for Unemployment!

Unemployment's a b***h!

                                                                

     This wasn't fair! Harry was waiting in line at the unemployment office, because his boss had decided to ditch him, and go with his natural hair. His owner didn't want the press, and therefore America, to think he wore a toupee. He'd even let a woman reporter inspect his hair to show it was his actually his. Harry was crushed. After all the years spent on top of his owners' head, this was the thanks he'd gotten--kicked to the curb like a piece of garbage.

 

***

     "Number 29, please, number 29," came the announcement over the intercom.

 

     That's us, finally! Harry thought. The man assisting him, a friend who knew he was alive, had spent 25 years in a home for the mentally unbalanced, and had just been released, carefully picked him up and walked to the person who'd called their number. He set Harry carefully down on the counter. Harry just sat there looking at the woman, whose name tag identified her as Janice. Janice said, "How may I help you?"

 

     Harry's helper, a man who answered to the name, 'Gumbo', although Harry suspected that was an alias, replied, "Yes, my friend here would like to apply for unemployment."

 

     Janice looked around, and in a confused tone, replied, "Well, where is he?"

 

     Gumbo responded, "Right here."

 

     "Where?"

 

     "Right here," he said, pointing to Harry.

 

     "Sir, all I see is a toupee."

 

     "Exactly, he just found out his services will no longer be required, and, well, you know, a fella's got to eat."

 

     "I see ..." said Janice, "Will you excuse me for just a second?" she then added, and, not waiting for a reply, walked quickly away.

 

     "Huh, I wonder what that's all about?" said Gumbo. Harry shrugged his shoulders, but because he didn't have any, appeared not to move. 

***

     After a few minutes, there was a commotion near the door, and several police officers burst through. They headed straight for where Harry and Gumbo stood waiting.

 

     "Is this the man?" asked one of the police.

 

     "That's him," came the response from a suddenly reappearing Janice. "He's the man who claims this toupee wants to file for unemployment."

 

     "Bullshit, pal! We checked your records, and for the past 25 years you've been institutionalized for the same story. Looks like the cure didn't take, pal. They're waiting with open arms, Fred, to welcome you back. Doesn't that sound great, back to where your safe, and everything's nice and quiet?"

 

     Harry watched with dismay, as Gumbo, or Fred, freaked out, "I'm not going back there--tell 'em Harry!"

 

     Harry tried in vain to signal them, but apparently no one noticed, because Gumbo was led away in handcuffs, babbling, "But I tell you, he's alive!"

 

     "Sure, buddy, sure he is!" said one policeman, exchanging looks with his partner. They marched Gumbo to and through the front door, and were soon gone. Harry sat looking as Janice picked him up, and stuffed him in a drawer. As the darkness enveloped Harry, he thought,

 

     "Great, now what?" He would have told anyone who would listen, had he had a mouth, "I tell you, I get no respect, or any other reaction, for that matter!"

 

The End