Fortnightly Writing Competition - Happiness [Everybody wins!]

[WHAM]

"Since the end of the war, I'd had no hope. No wife, no kids, no family. My job was gone with the city I'd lived in, and so had my old home. I was a wreck, struggling just to survive, to see another miserable sunrise of another miserable day. I'd lost it all, and nothing awaited me that could uplift me, nor save me...

Until one day..."


Perhaps this is how your story begins, perhaps it is not, but I felt we all needed soemthing to uplift us from the bleak events of the last fortnightly. So, here's the next theme: happiness. Write a story in which someone or something finds that one thing that uplifts them and makes them truly happy, no matter how bleak things may have seemed before.


The deadline is 2000GMT on December 22nd, so that we can all enjoy the stories over the holidays.

Have fun people, and remember to be happy!

[Fitz]

Happiness? Awww darn! My head is filled with stories of darkness, misery and post-apo new-weirdness!

I might have an idea, though, which should marry both attitudes quite nicely. Does it have to be happy-happy -- or just subjectively happy? Because I'm thinking of something uplifting in a very trippy, surreal way.

[WHAM]

I don't think there is a precise definition for happiness, so go wild.

[Ghost]

Pancakes make me happy.

[kconan]

  Yea, we've been a bit dark lately in the writing comps.  I've got something cookin' in my noggin' that fits the bill.

  So I went slapstick comedy, with a dash of coming-of-age, that starts somewhat sad and ends up happy.

[LostTrainDude]

Darn I missed a couple of rounds, I hope to jump in again at this one!

[Ponch]

But how can I be happy when the last writing competition ended early -- just hours before I was able to upload my contribution?

HOW CAN I EVER KNOW HAPPINESS AGAIN?!?

Already working on my next story. Good topic, WHAM.

[Stupot]

Maybe it's the  time of year or the weather, but damn, I'm finding it hard to think of a happy story.  I'll keep trying.

[Fitz]

How about some super happy a capella medley to cheer everyone up -- and maybe inspire in some way or other? Specially dedicated to Ponch -- whose avatar is perfectly synced with the music. I've had this one on loop for extended periods of time over the past weekend and it kept my spirits up pretty darn well. Same with Capital Cities.

In other news, I got a completely new idea for a story, should be fun

[WHAM]

Maybe it's the  time of year or the weather, but damn, I'm finding it hard to think of a happy story.  I'll keep trying.

Sounds like you are in need of happiness yourself!
I'm actually thinking of writing a story myself, but as the organizer I will abstain from actually competing (not sure if it's said in the rules that organizers cannot participate, but it feel unfair), just to force myself to think happy thoughts.

[kconan]

It was the best day of my life and I didn't even know it at the time.  I crack up uncontrollably whenever I reminisce about that life-changing day.  My name is Jeff Rathkins and this is a retelling of THE turning point in my amazing life, prefaced with a little backstory…

My slightly older brother Brent was my complete antithesis.  For my age I was whip crack smart, and he was what I called a “meathead”.  I was severally physically disabled, and he was not only fully ambulatory but extremely athletic.  Also, I was a nice kid and Brent had the capability to be meaner than a junkyard dog.  I'd wheel myself over to the TV using the one arm that wasn't gnarled into a ball, and change the channel from the “Renny the Rat” cartoon to a nature show or something else that was at least somewhat educational.  This would cause Brent to race me across the room to a corner, shove all kinds of crap in the wheels to prevent me from moving, and inevitably change the channel back to that horrible Rat show.  Any further attempts to mess with anything he deemed his (which was pretty much everything in the house), would result in titty twisters and/or Indian burn tortures.  Occasionally he would step up his abuse game and whap me in the balls with anything that happened to be handy at the time.  I once threatened to tell Mom on him, and was reminded that “snitches get stitches Jeff.”

My father had left when I was three years old, and so eventually I had to deal with a stepfather named Cletus who often cheated on my mother when she was away on business.  He was tall and skinny with arms covered in old faded tattoos, and was probably the only person left on Earth who still sported a rat tail haircut.  Cletus completely turned his back on me to focus on drinking, listening to Winger CDs, and sometimes playing sandlot sports with Brent.  He once told me “I ain't equipped to deal with no dribbling half-tard.”  My response was, “Nor am I, Sir.”  Being a moron, he naturally didn't get the slight.  I never understood what my mother saw in him, though I guessed she didn't care as much since she was rarely around due to her busy travel schedule.  I resigned myself to the fact that it would have been hard to find a quality man that would be accepting of my physical disabilities and deformities, and so it makes sense that she would have to lower her standards.  Of course I indirectly blamed myself at the time.

So the "happy" household consisted of my abusive brother Brent, my lazy ignoramus of a stepfather Cletus, and my buddy Captain Whiskers.  Captain Whiskers was a retired barn mouser given to us by my Uncle Mike.  My Mom's brother, Mike, would make a cameo appearance about once or twice a year to the house to check on Mom, me, and his old calico colored cat and then he would return to his oil rigs where he spent most of the year making a hard, though comfortable and honest, living.  Uncle Mike previously owned a farm, but he got tired of unpredictable weather coupled with a few lean years and sold the whole thing.  I was very young, but can still recall him dropping off Captain Whiskers at our house.  The ole' Captain had kept Mike's farm cleared of everything smaller than him with fur or feathers, and he was not a little animal weighing in at solid twenty-five pounds.  Mike had mentioned that a wild lynx was actually the cat's father, and he claimed that Captain Whiskers was the “toughest anything I have ever seen.”  He emphasized that we should never taunt or otherwise disrespect him.  Brent immediately tried to terrorize it, and one serious glare combined with a threatening growl/purr from the big cat scared him off for good.  The former mouser did seem to know it was in retirement, as it kept a low profile aside from the occasional swat at a neighborhood dog or bird that got too close.  Once and a while he would jump in my lap for a brief head patting, and he was always careful to keep his large sharp claws retracted.  My Mom debated having Captain Whiskers de-clawed, but eventually decided to leave him in peace.  Mom would only occasionally remember to get high quality cat food, whereas Cletus would simply feed the cat cheap protein powder.  Regardless of a varying diet and advanced age, Captain Whiskers was strong and in great overall shape.

My brother was planning to have a big party for his ninth birthday.  All of his close neighborhood and school friends (many of whom bullied me as well) were invited, along with Callen, who's Mom Cletus was seeing on the side.  Even back then I knew something wilder than sex was happening, judging by how the house would shake when she was “visiting” while Callen was playing with Brent.  The party would include lots of great food, a big piñata, and Brent's favorite cartoon character Renny the Rodent was slated to appear, or more specifically, a local small-time drug dealer who owed Cletus a favor was going to dress up in a cheap rat costume and dance around.  Unlike my parties, which were small and humble to say the least, Brent would get the big birthday bash of his dreams! 

I designed a plan which would both entertain myself and mete out long deserved justice at the same time.  This plan was made easier by Mom not being able to join due to a last minute business trip.  Still, I was aware that the execution of said plan would involve intelligence in the Art of War and a good bit of luck which I believed I was due.  The planning and preparation phase went without a hitch, and all I had to do was show up.


My brother was just about to whack the piñata, but he paused and walked over to me and put the stick handle in my good arm.  He genuinely smiled.  Thinking that he was offering a ceremonial piñata whack to me, I immediately felt horribly guilty…that is until he grabbed the stick back and rammed the business end into my crotch.  His assembled friends laughed while I heard noises from upstairs that I knew were the opening festivities of Cletus and Callen's Mom's private party.  I slunk off into a darkened corner, pushed the switch to lock the wheelchair into place, and patted the cell phone in my chair compartment to ensure it was still there.  It had been a while since my face formed into a grin, and it felt nice to do that.

While beaming, I saw Captain Whiskers cut a swath through the crowd of kids and head to his water bowl.  He gave a few test laps of what his cat brain could tell was not water, and then he dunked his furry, whiskered face in and began slurping Red Samurai Energy Drink like it was the Fountain of Youth.  The bottle art on a Red Samurai depicted a screaming Samurai decapitating some unlucky soul who had been drinking a brand X energy drink.  I believe this absurd marketing gimmick alone lured Cletus as regular customer.

Brent, returning his attention to the piñata, glanced over at a girl he was sweet on and declared “This one's for you baby” while pointing his piñata whacker at the sky like Babe Ruth calling his shot.  He reared back and whacked the piñata with all his might to no avail.  At this point, step one of my plans was starting to take effect as I could see hands begin clutching stomachs and behinds â€" this would be the kids who had quickly scarfed down the Metamucil tainted brownies and cookies.  Brent prepared for another strike, and was interrupted by Renny the Rodent's eagerly awaited arrival!

I started shaking my head and chuckling.  My lip, which normally trembles slightly due to an involuntary facial tick, was now quivering in anticipation.  Captain Whiskers stalked his way to the piñata, looked up at it out of curiosity, and swaggered over to the couch.  He was purring much louder than normal, sounding more like a big motorcycle engine than his usual small lawnmower.  My original plans had been evolving in a different order than what I initially expected, but I was not concerned as my insidious operation was still in motion.

Moving my line of sight from the mouser turned housecat to the Renny the Rodent knockoff, I could see that he was now dancing around like a jackass and butchering the lyrics to the Renny theme song.  From the handful of shows I've watched, I didn't recall the rodent ever doing the sprinkler or the butter churn.  Brent's friends had formed a semi-circle around Renny, and some were booing, some were clapping, others were simply dumbfounded, and the rest were holding their stomachs and moaning.  I could smell Cletus's friend's body odor and liquor stank through his ratty costume and all the way to the back corner of the room.  My chuckles had now progressed into full-on giggles.

Suddenly the Renny mask came off and Cletus's idiot friend vomited into an antique spittoon, and then he put the mask back on and announced “Don't worry kids, RANNY is feeling better now!”  The few true Renny fans among the audience corrected him while shaking their heads.  Renny resumed dancing, grabbed a fireplace poker without interrupting his jig, and danced his way over to the suspended piñata - or as I knew it â€" The large papier mâché blob filled with tainted candy and the contents of three full cans of bear pepper spray.  Meanwhile, Captain Whiskers disdain was growing for what he believed was a humongous rat that was somehow marking its own territory on HIS property.  The cat's ingestion of eight hundred milligrams of caffeine was also not helping his disposition, as his big orange hued eyes stared daggers at his new arch nemesis.

Brent was sweating profusely and he headed towards the bathroom, and several other kids were lost and wandering around looking for somewhere to take care of their own stomach issues.  A few others simply curled up and moaned while passing gas.  Renny then smashed the fireplace poker into the piñata, which exploded in a shower of pepper spray and candy, and he received a macing through the eye holes of his mask for his trouble.  Nearly all of the kids were outside of the initial blast radius, but they still received enough of a dose to start rubbing their irritated eyes.  My giggles graduated into cackles of glee.

A now blinded and obviously in pain Renny the Rodent began wildly flailing his arms and careening and crashing around the main room while screaming bloody murder.  He took a pratfall into the dessert table, sending the birthday cake and the other desserts flying into kids and one cupcake nearly hit Captain Whiskers before he artfully dodged it.  A few of the kids who were in good shape were gaping in awe, some were still wandering around the house looking for the bathroom, and the rest were in the main room holding their aching stomachs and rubbing their eyes.  One kid staggered over with a hand on his behind and another rubbing his eyes, and I looked at him and said “Great party huh?!” through a big dumb grin.  His response was to collapse on top of bean bag chair and moan.  Brent stumbled back into the room and looked at me in shock, and then turned his attention to Renny the Rodent.

Renny grabbed a bowl of fruit punch, dumped it onto his rat face mask, and began shaking his big furry head from side-to-side as he backed up - it was in the process of doing that where he made a huge mistake.  One of his large rat feet stepped on Captain Whiskers's tail, and that errant foot stomp caused the retired mouser to immediately come out of retirement.

Having heard the stories from Uncle Mike, I knew what was coming.  For a brief moment I started to feel guilty for the man in the costume…until I reminded myself that he had once actually come to my school to try to sell drugs to classmates who were still in their single digits.

Captain Whiskers hissed like a busted air compressor, his orange eyes turned red, and he then did a five and half foot standing broad jump onto the face of Renny the Rodent, bit down on the top of Renny's head, and began slashing at the sides with both front paws which resulted in tufts of fake fur to go flying in every direction.  His back paws were latched onto the neck portion of the costume.  The whole thing reminded me of those face huggers from the Aliens movies.

Renny yelled “Get it off!” and tried to ram himself face first into a wall, but the big cat simply dropped down right before the moment of impact and the man in the rat costume headbutted the wall.  He staggered backwards in a daze and Captain Whiskers leapt back up onto Renny's face and resumed his relentless assault.  Renny ran around the room as Kids moaned and cried, but a few of the partygoers actually managed to join me in laughter at the absurdity of the situation.  Tufts of fake fur and plastic whiskers rained down as the calico cat mauled both the costume and the exposed areas of the man underneath.

After about a minute of random flailing about and unsuccessful attempts to land a good bash Captain Whiskers, Renny crashed through the plate glass sliding door and ran onto the back porch.  I leaned out a bit, as my view from the corner to the backyard was slightly obstructed, and could see that the upper half of the rat costume was now in tatters.  Cletus's friend collapsed in a heap onto the porch.  He was bleeding from bite and claw marks, and I could see Captain Whiskers â€" who was miraculously uninjured from his trip through the glass window â€" detach himself and do a circle around his fallen prey before stalking off to hide under the back porch.  Brent walked over to take a look at what the previously mellow cat had done to his birthday party entertainment.  I was pounding on my chair with my good arm as tears of joy streamed down my face knowing full well that the “piece de résistance” was soon to come…

And then the police battering ram, which I thought of as “the big key” thanks to countless hours of watching crime-dramas, rammed through the front door and a small SWAT team spilled into the house.  I saw officers donning their gas masks, and one said “Good lord!  It smells like ass and pepper spray!”  This comment launched me into hysterics.

A cop walked over to me, glanced with obvious concern at the moaning kids, and said “Hey kid, look we got call about someone in a goofy mascot outfit threating children.  Have you seen someone matching that description?”  I could tell that the officer thought my tears stemmed from something other laughter, and I said “Check upstairs Sir, I think that is where your suspect went.”  I used a slightly slurred version of my voice to invoke more sympathy, which could in-turn result in less suspicion.  The police officer sprang into action along with his team, while I stifled knowing laughter.

I heard a loud commotion upstairs and could see walking down the stairway to the front door was my stepfather Cletus, and as he came into view I nearly gagged from uncontrollable laughter.  Cletus was frog marched through the front door while clad in a brown leather, studded gimpsuit.  I imagined the reaction he would get in county jail, and laughed harder.  Callen's Mom followed, she was half-naked with clothespins (or so I thought at the time) on her breasts.  This was when her son Callen went from stomach pain moaning to the “I just saw my naked Mom being hauled off to jail” variation of moaning.  Most of the kids now joined me in laughter, and the twenty or so neighbors who had gathered around the front lawn gawked and gasped in horror as Cletus was tossed in the back of the police van like a rag doll.

Brent's friends were all fine the next day, after their eyes were cleaned out and their stomachs had settled.  Cletus and “Renny” were both locked up and took the full blame for the debacle; the former for child endangerment and the latter had outstanding warrants and so was thrown in federal prison for a stint, though physically he was basically ok after the scratches and bites healed.  Animal control was called in on Captain Whiskers, who easily escaped them (I watched from the porch, and it was like the keystone cops versus Scarface) and was ultimately never found.  I assumed that he made his way into a nearby forest and lived out his days in the wild.

My Mom returned from her trip a few days later while a neighbor babysat Brent and me.  I was later told that my Mom drove from the airport back home like a crystal meth addict in withdrawals headed to their dealer.  She quit her job and found another one that didn't require as much travel, and finally focused attentions on her kids.  She even apologized for subjecting us to Cletus.


So you know what?  Everything in my life improved after that birthday party!  Cletus was never seen again.  My brother began treating me more like a human being, and only very occasionally bullied me.  My Mom eventually settled down with a decent guy who actually cared about both her and her family.  Perhaps most importantly:  I realized after that day that I was capable of outsmarting anyone who underestimated me, which in-turn gave me more confidence to excel both academically and socially.  In college I studied biology and robotics, and graduated with a master's degree in both subjects at the top of my class.

Fast forward to present day and the ripple effects from that birthday party can still be felt, as I am writing this story using a robotic hand which is connected to a robotic arm; both inventions that I had a “hand” in creating.  Life is awesome!  My only complaint right now is that the back massage I'm currently receiving from my hot wife is a little strong.

[Sinitrena]

Sometimes it's the simple things that make us happy (or sad).

The following is a story for small children, maybe ages 4 to 6. Such stories usually have illustrations, so I mocked some up to add to the atmosphere. (Please don't judge my drawing talent too harshly )

-----------------------------------

The sad little puppy

The little kitten was bored. She was playing alone in the garden and did not like this very much. So she rounded the house to talk to the puppy. But the little puppy sat on the front porch and cried. “Why are you sad?”, asked the kitten. The puppy did not answer and just shook his head.
So the kitten went to the frog, who sat next to the garden pond, and said: “I want to play with Puppy, but he is sad. What should I do?” The frog thought for a moment and then said: “When I am sad I like to swim. Look!” And he jumped off the flat stone he had sat on and dove into the pond. The kitten watched as the frog swam around and jumped out of the water, dove and generally just seemed to have a lot of fun. So the kitten went back to the little dog and said: “Come on, let's go for a swim!” But the puppy didn't want to go, so the kitten took his collar in her small mouth and dragged the puppy to he pond. Then she nudged him into the water. The little dog jumped back out of the water, barked angrily at the cat, shook his fur dry and ran away, back to the porch to lie down again.
Next the kitten went to the hamster and said: “Puppy is sad and I don't know why!” The hamster stopped running in his wheel and looked at the kitten. “Hm”, he said, “Did you ask him?” “Yes, but he wouldn't answer.”, the kitten said. “Hm”, repeated the hamster, “When I am sad and don't want to talk it means that I am hungry. Obviously, you need to bring him something to eat!” “All right”, said the kitten. “Do you mind if I take some of your food?” “No, no, not at all.” So the kitten took the bowl and dragged it over to the little dog. But when she came to the front porch, the dog growled loudly and the kitten did not dare go near him. “I... I brought you something to eat.”, she stuttered from afar. The puppy perked up for a moment and sniffled the air. Then he laid his head back down. “I don't eat this. Go away.” The little kitten realized that this wouldn't make the puppy happy either, so she left.
So the kitten thought to speak to the canary next. The canary always seemed happy and sang lovely songs. “Canary?”, the kitten said to get the birds attention, because she was busy singing. “Yes, little one? What can I help you with?”, the canary asked. “Puppy is sad. Do you have any advice for me? I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't say.” “I see.”, said the canary in her cage. “When I am sad I simply sing and that makes me happy again.” “That is the answer I expected.”, the little cat said. “What do you mean?” “Everyone tells me what makes them happy! But I want Puppy to be happy again!” “I see.”, said the canary pensively. “But you know that a lovely song makes everyone happy, right? Maybe he doesn't like to sing like me, but he sure would like to listen to a song, don't you think?” “All right.”, said the kitten, but she was doubtful. Still, she went back to the dog and sat down on the other end of the porch from him. “What do you want?”, the puppy growled. “I came to sing to you, so that you will be happy again!” The dog looked at the cat confused. But before he could say anything else the kitten began to sing. And unfortunately, cats can't sing as lovely as canaries. The little puppy growled even louder then before and put his paws on his floppy ears. When she didn't stop then, he lunged for her and she fled.
The kitten ran into the house and holed up an the couch. She did not understand the little dog and cried herself. “What is wrong?”, asked the canary from her cage, but the cat did not answer. “What is wrong?”, asked the hamster from his wheel, but the little kitten could not answer. She just lay there and cried because the little puppy would not play with her. But then her mother came into the room and saw her crying daughter. She jumped up on the couch and put her paw on the little kitten's head. “What is wrong, dear? Why are you sad?”, she asked. “I... I don't know.”, sobbed the kitten. “I don't understand the puppy any more. I wanted to play with him but he was sad. I asked him what was wrong but he wouldn't answer. The I asked the frog what I should do and he said that swimming makes him happy. So I brought Puppy to the pond to cheer him up but he didn't like it. Then I asked the hamster what I should do and he suggested that Puppy might be hungry. So I brought him food but he didn't like it. Then I asked the canary and she said she likes to sing when she is sad and I said that everyone just suggested what he liked. But Canary said everybody likes hearing a song so I went back to Puppy and sang him a song but that just made him angry. And I think everything I did was wrong and Puppy doesn't like me any more and I don't understand this and now I am sad and...” She choked on her tears. The mother cat put her arms around her daughter and held her. “You tried your best.”, she said, “But you just didn't find what makes Puppy happy, only what makes other people happy. And you don't know why Puppy was sad in the first place, so you couldn't really help him. And sometimes we just want to be alone when we are sad. It's not your fault, but I think you might have made it worse because you tried things he doesn't like. Maybe you should wait until Puppy feels better and then talk to him. And when you both feel better, he will probably tell you what was wrong in the first place and you can find a solution together. How does that sound?” “All... all right.”, sobbed the kitten.
When she had finished crying in her mothers arms and looked up again, she saw the puppy patiently sitting at the foot of the couch. “I'm sorry.”, Puppy said. “I didn't meant to hurt you.” “I'm sorry too. - Why were you sad?”, asked the kitten hesitatingly. “Um, I always play with the neighbour's dog in the morning, but today he didn't come.” “The neighbour's dog always growls at me!”, the kitten said. “He's not used to cats.”, the puppy laughed, “Maybe I could introduce you and we could play together?” “That sounds good. - So he is back then?” “Yes, he is. He was just on a day trip with his human family.” And the kitten and the puppy went into the neighbour's garden and the puppy introduced the dog and the kitten to each other. From then on they all played happily  together.

[Baron]

Well, it's coming down to the wire, but I'm going to try to make a last minute stab at this.  Who's with me?

[LostTrainDude]

I am, for I cannot grasp happiness leaving this undone!
(Just re-reading my entry and polishing where possible. I'll update this post)

Ok, this is it! Quite short, but... You know... I hope it gets to the point!

The following is an excerpt from:
ECHOES OF HAPPINESS
15 different points of view about one of the most relative human conditions, impolitely eavesdropped in public places

by B. Larkin

We have now reached the very end of this collection. It has been a great pleasure to me, to have the chance to write down and share all of these different opinions with a wider audience.
I've realized that those places where you can get your belly full and your liver well hydrated are the best places to find people talking about happiness.

This time I was at a local pub. I always enjoyed going there for the great choice of beer, so I saved it for my last eavesdropping session. Quite funny is that this is actually the conversation I found most interesting.

This time we talk about MR. J. and MR. K., two acquaintances who were talking about everything and nothing when, all of a sudden, the topic came up.

As always, I'll transcript the words that I recorded from the conversation. I bolded the words spoken with more emphasis.

MR. J. â€" You see, last year I met this girl. She was really something... Dynamite... A stick of dynamite... A shorty, slim, cute, long-winded stick of dynamite. I started to overthink immediatly after I had my first chat with her! (chuckles)
She spoke very briefly about her previous relationship and so I began to imagine how could it have ended and why but, anyway...
We both lived in the same city, but she lived in the exact opposite part in which I lived. She lived downtown, just near the station, and I lived uptown: antipodes.
I used to walk her home at night and well, I've always found incredibly invalidating that there were no working subways nor buses after midnight. You see, streetlamps were dim, some streets were too wide, some too narrow... Let's say that in the dead of night it kinda doesn't seem a comfy city to walk through.
Now, the distance between my place and her's was HUGE and as sure that I enjoyed her company, each time I had to go back home I was alone, in the dark and tired. And... Well, I felt it.
At first, I used that long walks to collect thoughts and enjoy some specific parts of the city which I couldn't avoid to cross, but that became boring quite fast. I began to think more about the time we could have spent together than, for instance, at how the moon used to shine between two buildings in a specific spot of the city. (chuckles)

MR. K. â€" I'm sorry to interrupt, but have you ever considered driving there by car or... Something else?

MR. J. â€" Of course I did! But I couldn't personally afford to buy a car, neither a used one, actually. But why should I ever need a car when a big city like that one is supposed to give people a chance to move easily between different places anytime? I know that it's sounds like a cliché but, you know, we actually paid taxes! (chuckles)

At this point I want to make the reader aware that the MR. J. wasn't at all angry nor stressed, the mood of the conversation was actually quite playful.

MR. J. â€" Anyway, it was Christmas Eve night and I had one of those far-famed stomach-stretching dinners right at my parents' house. I was in some sort of food-induced coma and I was quite enjoying it, when suddenly my mobile phone rang and showed up her name. She wanted to see me and I was flabbergasted: we weren't actually dating and the last thing I could think of, that day, was her calling me.
I was a bit tipsy and, of course, also excited. So I rushed out of the house and threw myself into the streets, without really knowing how to get downtown since, you know, it was Christmas for everybody, let alone bus and subway drivers! Moreover, I had no bus or subway tickets, so I was really sure I would have walked all the way.
But then I found out I was wrong! E-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g seemed to be up and running like never before, neither in any ordinary day whatsoever! I got into the subway, for once the ticket machine was working fine, took the train and I got there in time. Then, when it was time to go back home I just took the same subway, backwards.

MR. K. â€" And so... You think that one is the happiest day of your life? You know... Dating the girl you were attracted to... like a complete unexpected Christmas present and so on?

MR. J. â€" No, no, no... She was amazing and all, but... That's not about that... You see, I'm not a total lazy ass but that day I realized that, for me, happiness lies in a city that offers you the chance to be where you want to be, whenever you want to, and does it as quickly as possible.

And so, this is it! I had a great time collecting materials (and beers) for this research, with which I'm not at all trying to impose any kind of objective truth about what happiness is and how to achieve it. It just intends to show how many different - and interesting! - things may end up bringing it to you, which I find it to be very engaging!

Last, but not least, I'd like to express all my gratitude to all those impolitely great backers who helped me in funding my project online and to all those who just spread the word about it. If I reached the goal was only thanks to you! You made me very happy indeed!

[WHAM]

Just under 4 hours left, and it seems we'll have two last minute entries!

[Baron]

The Happy Ghost of Christmas Past

   â€œ...And then you dip them in caramel!  Of course they try to crawl away for a bit, but you can always tell where they've got to, since there's a stippling of sweetness that follows them wherever they go.  And then when the caramel sets, they're good and frozen in there.  They'll keep three to six weeks, longer if you freeze them.  Now let me tell you about how to make my famous Shoo-Fly Pie....”

   Lykas nodded his head absently as old Mardo McGew  prattled on about her infamous recipes.  It would be tedious if they weren't so fiendishly ghoulish.  If she'd been a Hallowe'en goblin she would be a celebrity chef, but as a Christmas elf her career came to a quick and ignominious end once she started introducing live insects as an ingredient.  That's how she ended up here, in the Home for Addle-Witted Elf Elders.  Still, she was happy enough to rant about her recipes, as long as she had somebody to share with, and at Christmas and her birthday the staff would even provide her with toy bugs for her to pretend bake with.  And happiness was what counted in life, Lykas was sure of that.

   For his part, he was a giving elf.  Sure he spent his time on the production lines with the rest of the elves, for twelve hour shifts a day with plenty of overtime in December, but his heart just wasn't into the giving of things.  No, Lykas liked to give his time, after work or on a rare day off, to bring joy to others.  And who needed cheering more than the poor neglected coots at the Home?  Crazy though they may be, they were still good-hearted folk, deserving of the milk of Elven kindness no less than the next elf in line.  And even more so, Lykas thought, considering their long years of service to The Cause before being committed.  So he was happy to cheer them, and they seemed happy to be cheered, and so everyone was the happier for it.

   Sure, sometimes things got weird.  Falomore Flipright, for example, thought he was an alien from planet Vulcan.  It was a reasonable conclusion, considering his addiction to Star Trek reruns, his pointy ears, and his very prominent eyebrows.  When Lykas went to visit Falomore he first had to submit himself to a logic quiz to make sure he wasn't a Romulan, before being subjected to the bizarre ritual of playing with his Star Trek figurines.  The weirdest thing about it was that he actually seemed to believe them to be living autonomous beings.  He had even rationalized why all of his space companions had been shrunk to 1:20 scale (apparently it was some sort of transporter glitch).

   And then there was Daros Deeker, an ex-wrapper from the line's end division.  He had developed the peculiar compulsion of having to wrap everything.  Everything!  His room was done up like some sort of inside-out present, and the furnishings always crinkled with fresh paper.  The really queer thing was that he had been forbidden wrapper ever since he started a fire by wrapping his lamp, but somehow he always seemed to be in possession of more.  The security staff had enlisted Lykas' aid in sleuthing out his source, but he'd never managed to catch the old bat smuggling it in.  His own pet theory was that he manufactured it himself in his room from pocket lint that he harvested regularly from the more comatose inmates at the canteen.

   Sylabess Sly was another exceptional case.  Once she was a brilliant tinkerer, but then she somehow became convinced that the North Pole was warming and would slowly melt into the sea.  Every time he visited she would show him charts and graphs of her latest data.  She would rave his pointed ears off about trend-lines and the perils of polar ablation (“the Secret Killer,” as she called it), and sometimes she would show off her kooky homespun instruments.  He regretted that he couldn't spend more time with her, for her arguments almost made sense in a kind of zany way, but she kept her room so very frigid that Mardo McGew's caramelized bugs would keep indefinitely therein.

   And then there was Allakhan Abbot.  This guy was a real nutjob.  He was possessed of the delusion that he was the true Santa Clause, and that their current lord and master was nothing but a carpetbagging imposter.  When he was restored to power, he claimed, his enemies would tremble in their boots!  If only he could raise an army of feral reindeer to purge the populace of his unwitting supporters, he could then turn his attentions to those wicked children on the naughty list.  Too long had they been appeased with gifts and candy.  When he was restored to his rightful throne they would be coaled back to the neolithic - “Old Testament-style!”  Still, for a megalomaniac in waiting the old guy had his charm.  He always let Lykas sit on his lap and had an endless supply of candy-canes to share.

   Yes, they were an odd bunch, up here in the Home.  But they weren't scary, not really.  And in this season of spreading cheer Lykas had begun to consider their exile and the price it had on society.  They were miserable, up here, deprived of the elven contact that would bring them fulfilment, while the populace at large was deprived of their wacky antics and unique perspectives.  They were genuinely interesting folk!  And the more Lykas thought about it, the more he considered how the two groups, the crazies and the normal elves, would both be the richer were they to be reunited.  And so, bitten by the seasonal bug, Lykas determined to spread such cheer by leaving the back door to the canteen propped open and changing the signage inside.  Slowly, two or three at a time, the long-forgotten inmates of the Home for Addle-Witted Elf Elders wandered free, on their unknown mission to make this the most memorable of Christmases at the North Pole.  Lykas was happy.   

[WHAM]

Time is up (it was up quite a few hours ago, but I'll let it slide since I was asleep)! It's time to vote and see who made you feel happy.


The contestants: kconen, Sinitrena, LostTrainDude, Baron

As before, categories:

Character: You find one or several characters really believable/captivating/magnetic/unique, etc.
Plot: The story arc was well-organized, coherent, and well-executed with appropriate pacing
Background World: The best setting or milieu for a story; a place brought to life.
Word Choice/Style: The technical art of combining words in clever or gripping ways
Happiness: How happy the story made YOU feel when reading it

You can vote up to two contestants per category, and each vote is worth one point. 
Voting ends at midnight (GMT) on the 26th of December, so take a moment during the holidays and enjoy.

Oh, almost forgot: Merry Christmas to all!

[kconan]

Character: Baron - I wanted to hear more about Allakhan Abbot.
Plot: Sinitrena - Straightforward and related to the theme.
Background World: Baron - Lots of fun background on the kooky elves.
Word Choice/Style: LostTrainDude - Unique way of telling a story, having a narrator relay a conversation overheard in bar.
Happiness: Sinitrena - The story was centered on a selfless main character who wanted to make someone else happy.

[Baron]

Character: kconan for Captain Whiskers, Cletus, and the unnamed small-time drug dealer: all were very colourful characters!
Plot: Sinitrena for a well-structured fable, complete with lesson.
Background World: LostTrainDude for the dysfunctional city at night.
Word Choice/Style: kconan for the analogies and clever word play.  "Driving like a meth addict to see her dealer" and "ass & pepper spray" spring to mind.
Happiness: kconan, for making me chuckle the most.  I'm happiest when I'm chuckling....

I doubt I'll be around for Christmas, so best wishes to all you writing comp folks, especially you regulars who keep up the good fight just to keep me entertained.  See you all on the other side....

[LostTrainDude]

Character: kconan, for Captain Whiskers. I loved how it appeared to me as a sort of retired "fighter" who still hadn't "the match of his career" and therefore he wasn't ready for retirement yet!
Plot: Sinitrena, definitely a great way to teach a valuable lesson.
Background World: Baron, even without being too much specific in describing the place, everything seemed to be forming in my mind as the characters were pointed out!
Word Choice/Style: Sinitrena, probably the best choice of words for the provided "audience".
Happiness: Baron, the ending let me feel this sensation of happiness as when "everything comes together".

Great stories everybody, best wishes to you all!