Once in a Lifetime

A Story by justsomesaint

Doctor Garth Peterson, an incompetent man stuck in his own head, gets forced into doing an overnight watch at his observatory for the biggest comet event in history.

It’s coming up to the top of the sixth hour on my Friday night and I am still stuck at this withered old observatory with that troll-looking S.O.B Doctor Evers, still carrying on about the upcoming comet. Ensure that blah, blah, blah captures the tail at the blah, blah, blah. As if anyone on this planet cares.

Is that mold on the ceiling? Damn, this place is falling apart. Who thought that seafoam green wallpaper was an acceptable choice?

I should be at Monty’s pounding down Glen-fifteen alongside a girl who has loads of baggage. Instead I’m surrounded by a couple of Trekies. I guess it’s not so bad, as I sit here on this metal chair from the sixties, possibly giving me TB. I get a lot of the chances to think up my quips. The very thing that keeps me bright and cheery in this world of--

“Doctor Peterson.”

Wait, he just said my name.

“Doctor Peterson, I hope you are paying attention.”

D****t, I really shouldn’t have stopped nodding.

“Don’t worry, Doctor Evers, I am…”

Do something physical, let him know you’re awake. Something, peace sign, pinky-finger, middle-finger…wait!...

“…fully engaged.”

Oh yeah, good old thumbs up.

Yeah, that’s right. Keep looking smug, you b*****d.

God damn, he’s starting back up again. Something that I never enjoy when someone is talking, is their lack of consideration for others. They usually carry on-and-on, about the same thing just reshuffled with a few new words, or a few har-har-har’s, when they practice their five-minute set.

No one at the center-stage ever thinks about their audience. They never consider the seconds that we spend being forced to indulge in their moment. Trapped like a couple of f****n’ toddlers. The speaker usually throws on the guise of professional collaboration with a little Q&A, but by the time that rolls around, no one wants to ask, they just want to get the hell out. Not the case here. I wish that was the case here. After he’s done, another egghead will start up. My whole department thinks the same damn thing, yet they just sit like enclosed sheep and bleat when spoken to.

When I applied for this job, I thought I’d get to shoot the s**t for eight hours, write a paper about the skies doing what they do and then go home to play some N64. But, this new regime from our state has us look to the stars and then to the books in search of explanations, just to produce new dissertations. We need the kiddos at universities to get amped for Astronomy. Oh, and the budget, we need to gain more funding so give us a reason why were here. Jesus, I’ve unintentionally become a cog in a machine to produce bland thinkers and bull--

“Now with that said everyone…”

That said?

What was said? S**t.

“I believe it is time I bid you adieu.”

Oh, thank god.

“Have a great weekend.”

Oh, I will.

“And I would like to thank one person before you go.”

Already did.

“Doctor Garth Peterson.”

What does he mean?

“What do you mean?”

“Thank you again for volunteering for the first overnight watch on the coming event.”

I never knew the feeling of wishing for someone to be crushed by fallen debris from an airplane bathroom until this moment.

“Have a goodnight, everyone.”

They’re all just okay with this. Look at them, so excited to go party and get blitzed. Why is Stevens coming towards me?

“Thanks again, Garth.”

Why is he touching me?

“I originally got the watch, but Doctor Evers said you agreed to cover it.”

What?!

“What?”

This is a nightmare.

“You really helped me out man, I get to see my son early in the morning. We’re going Disneyland!”

Motherfu--

“Doctor Evers!”

Don’t you keep walking away from me, goblin man.

“Doctor Evers, I really can’t do the watch tonight…or any night…ever.”

God, you can see his age when he furrows his brow.

“I have plans, important plans, very important plans.”

“Well, I am rather confused Garth, as you volunteered earlier back in the break-room.”

What the hell is he… oh d****t.

“I asked if anyone was willing to cover for Stevens...”

I kept nodding.

“...and I looked to you.”

And I kept nodding.

“I understand you no longer can, but then it would go back to our first choice. And I believe Stevens is quite excited for his son’s birthday.”

Damn right he is, he’s off to go get smashed with Mickey and Goofy.

“Considering his son has…”

Why is he in my ear?

“Cancer.”

…S**t.

It’s the top of the tenth hour on my Friday night. And I’m stuck here in this observatory in front of a screen. And not my TV screen. That Stevens better enjoy his morning and everything else.

Man, these hours have been hell with no booze, no good tunes, and no women. Maybe I should just lock up. Nobody would know. The odds of the event happening early are…well I don’t want to do the math.

Damn this job.

Damn, I’m tired.

Maybe I should just…just…

God, I wish Stacy Robinson was here.

“Garth!”

That’s the front gate!

S**t, which button? Red…no yellow.

“Stacy?”

“Who’s Stacy? It’s your boy, Mitch. Let me in. I got a surprise.”

“Gimme a sec, Mitch.”

What button? Blue…no…red…

“See ya in a few.”

It’s only ten, why is he out of the bar so early. Probably couldn’t nail a digit. Heck, even a glance without me there. Poor b*****d.

“My man, Garth!”

Well at least he’s got a case of booze.

“Heard the princess was all locked up in the tower.”

“Yup, and she’s been waiting for her prince charming.”

Show me the goods.

“Well hopefully my friend Jack and his Irish roommate Jamie will help.”

That horse-piss.

“They’ll do, I guess.”

Least the night won’t be a complete wash.

“Also, if you don’t mind, I brought a band of merry men and women to help me storm the gate.”

Oh?

“Long as they’re pretty.”

God, why does he whistle like that. Since high school it’s the stupid high-pitched horror he continues to carry on.

“Garth, meet everyone.”

That’s a lot of people. Don’t think I really know anyone. I don’t think there’s enough whisky�"-wait.

“Are those kegs?”

Oh, thank you god, thank you.

“Garth, are you crying?”

He doesn’t know how much I want to kiss him right now.

“Yeah, buddy I’m okay. I’m--IS THAT A MONKEY!”

God my head.

Why am I on the couch.

What Happened?

What time is it?

“Mitch!”

Where is he?

“Why are you up silly?”

Who the hell said that?

“Go back to sleep.”

Please don’t be the monkey.

“Looking for Mitch?”

God she’s pretty, thank you for being a brunette.

“Oh, he left like hours ago.”

We just got started partying and he left. Man, he really is flaky today…wait.

“Hours, hours? Like sixty minutes, but… a lot?”

Do I look that dumb when I just nod? Maybe I really�"

“The event!”

S**t, s**t, s**t, s**t, s**t.

“Hey, where are you going?"

Why is this hallway so long!

Where’s my key?

Cold hallway, cold hallway.

“Look who's back.”

Got it.

“Hey!”

Cold, cold, cold.

Open, open, open.

“Eureka!”

Where’s the remote!

Got it!

It didn’t happen, didn’t happen.

“…in what appears to be the most spectacular event in history. The collection of Forest’s Comets passing our solar system was truly a sight to see last night. Back to you, Tom.”

It happened…and I…I didn’t…

Is that monkey pooping on the monitors?

“Hey um…Garth?”

What now?

“Yeah?”

“There’s an, Evers, on the phone, he wants to know about the event. Did you capture it?”

This is the worse news a woman…this is the second worse news a woman has ever brought me.

It’s six in the morning on Saturday morning and I missed the event. I really suck at this job.