MARV, MOSTLY UNLOVED
By Matthew Sanborn Smith
If you took the time to read the title, then you’re already familiar with Marv’s situation. If you couldn’t be bothered with doing that, you’ll just have to sink or swim because I can hardly do a recap at this point. To continue:
He used to tell people his name was short for Marvelous and who wouldn’t love him then? Well, everyone wouldn’t, it seemed. So he covered himself in cheese. Everybody loves cheese, don’t they? He soon learned that everybody loves cheese only when it’s not smeared all over a naked man. It was his failure to perceive just this sort of subtle circumstantial difference that left his bed cold at night.
Instead of a meaty woman, Marv curled up at night next to photos of women. He didn’t even have the confidence to sleep with photos of hot women. They were all kind of homely. On top of that, he made excuses and apologies for his shortcomings to the photos and asked that they wouldn’t tell their friends. He finally admitted to himself that he dwelt in an emotional gutter.
Marv tried committing suicide at the 7-11 on the corner but he couldn’t fit in the microwave. Mindy, the night cashier, caught him sawing at his arm with a plastic knife.
“Cut it out,” she said, as she loaded new hot dogs onto the rolly hot dogger thing. It was the most caring thing anyone had ever said to him, and Marv’s life turned around at that moment.
He went back to Harvard and got his degree in Lovability and then went on to become king of a tiny island nation in the South Pacific. He made Mindy his queen and they lived out their lives in wonderment and happiness, feasting on coconuts and human flesh.