There's a lot to say about a man named Dennis.
What would a Dennis wish to accomplish in life? To live? To love? To exist? To be come a world-champion Skee-Baller? Perhaps all of the above
Dennis would live in the outskirts of a small little ramshackle town just outside of Farmingdale, NY. He would spend his days contemplating if there ever is life beyond his computer desk, or life at all.
Dennis knew his boss was a cheapskate, a tyrant. A giant evil lizard, if you wish. This Dennis would wish to break away from his monotony and strive to be the best little Dennis he could be.
If only he wasn't so damn short. It befalls him. Sure, he was as tall as his comrades, but he wishes he was taller. An inch here, an inch there in the right places would somehow increase his outlook on life by .05%. This sliver of a percent would be enough. If he was able to peek out of his window, he would know just exactly what season it was. It seems to change daily in his ramshackle little town. Monday, it would be sunny and seventy degrees. Tuesday, the leaves would be falling off the tree. Wednesday, You could see the filthy little children making snow angels. Thursday would be a day where a magic wand simply decided to set the thermostat at "Hell" level. And by Friday, the Mr. Softee truck would whizz by to cool off the ragged little beachgoers.
He enjoys the crossword, hopscotch, reading blogs, the usual. What Dennis would really love is adventure. Yes, adventure, you heard him. He would like to be the star for one, making some sort of journey, fighting evil creatures, saving the day, flagging down the Mr. Softee Man, usual protagonist stuff. Perhaps journey away from his computer desk, just to see what all the hubbub is all about. Dennis always wanted pudding.
The only thing that stops Dennis is his shortness. And his depression. Two things.
All right, three things. It's just that where he lives is dull and uninteresting. His life is simply not as glamorous as his Facebook makes him out to be. Dennis would love to take that first step of a journey of a thousand miles, but he can't find a step to begin with. It's all a vicious cycle that feeds his depression. If only Dennis had pudding.
By the way, this is Dennis: