1000 Reasons To Smile

Chapter 1: Sold Her To The Underworld

   When life gives you 100 reasons to cry, show life 1000 reasons to smile. 

   That was my aunt's favorite quote, a pretty well known one too. Any time I wasn't smiling, she'd tell me it. I never really thought about that quote much until Life actually made me cry. And not just any type of cry, but that one cry where you start hiccuping so bad you can't breathe, and your shaking and your face is so wet and full of snot you feel like a waterfall.

   Haha. I could practically hear Life laughing at me. Your losing, my darling.

   Reasons To Cry#1: Life Stole Aunt Pink and Sold Her To The Underworld.

   I cried for approximately 7.86 minutes before stopping and thinking about what Aunt Pink would want me to do. Or, rather, what she'd say. Well, that one was obvious, she'd tell me to give Life a taste of its own medicine and find one reason to smile.

   So that's what I did, I got up from the cold, bathroom floor, wiped the snot and tears off my face, and started hunting for that one reason to smile. Except I couldn't find it. I'm still looking now.

   That was 5 days and 7 hours ago. Within those 5 days and 7 hours, I was taken back to my aggravating parents, put into a new, tedious high school, and forced to get a job.

   Yep, still searching for one stupid reason to smile.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

   "PEYTON! WE GOT ANOTHER ONE HERE!"

   Grumbling, I left my position behind the counter and went to get a bucket of soapy water and a mop. This was the third kid so far to puke all over the The Ice Cream Shop's pristine marble floor, and the third time I've had to be the one to clean it.

   As I was swishing the gross mixture of blue, pink, and white (apparently this one had been Cotton Candy), a little kid walked up to me.

   Judging from the specks of ice cream on his shirt that matched the ones on the ground, I figured he was the little kid whose throw up I was currently cleaning.

   The kid just stood their, right in front of the mess, staring at it. I ignored him and continued cleaning. "That looks really gross," he finally said, putting his hands behind his back and slowly bouncing on his heels.

   "It is," I agreed, still not looking up.

   "That used to be my ice cream." He said, still staring at it.

   "Oh really?" I said.

   He nodded his head vigorously, his brown messy hair bouncing up and down. "It was really good, but I'm sick and Mommy said I threw it up because it was to much for my tummy."

   "Oh, well I'm sorry your sick, and that you're tummy made you throw up this really good ice cream." I said, now twirling the mop in a circle so that the thrown up ice cream looked like a colorful puddle.

   "Mommy also told me to a-paw-la-jize." The kid said, pronouncing each syllable.

   I finally looked up, or rather, down, at him and said, "It's alright, kid. There's a virus going around, so trust me, you're not the first person to throw up your delicious ice cream."

   He seemed to be about 5 years old, and wasn't exactly fat, though he had quite some chubby cheeks. He had big, chestnut eyes and curly brown hair.

   In other words, he was adorable.

   "Well, kid," I said. "Where's your Mommy?"

   "Oh, she's over there," he said, pointing to a lady in a business suit and red lipstick, sitting in the far corner of the shop. She was looking down, texting away on her phone.