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“Don’t hurt your happiness,” Daniel echoes. “Here, it’s on our key chains. Have one.”
He hands me a bright yellow key chain with DON’T HURT YOUR HAPPINESS in flowing, white script.
“Thanks,” I say. I’m feeling better.
An alarm sounds. On the walls, domed lights flare red. Gonzo drops to the ground and covers his head with his hands. “I told you, Cameron! Didn’t I tell you?”
Suddenly, the room is flooded by guys in commando gear. “Move, move, move!” they shout. They pass us by and surround a yellow sofa, where a young guy sits in his pajamas.
“Team leader! We’ve got a situation!” one of the commandos shouts.
“Excuse me, Cameron,” Daniel says. He goes over to the kid on the couch. “Thomas, what’s wrong, friend?”
“Uh, I don’t know. I just started feeling …” He searches for the word. “Sad.”
Daniel gives Thomas’s shoulders a squeeze and the kid winces. “We don’t feel sad, here, Thomas. Why do you want to hurt your happiness?”
“I totally don’t! I don’t know what happened. It’s like I just couldn’t help it. I was thinking about the time my dog, Snuffy, got hit by a car when I was six and how I still miss him, and it … the sad just snuck up on me.”
“Smoothie,” Daniel says to a commando, who opens the right side of his coat, displaying a dazzling array of cups.
“What flavor?” Daniel asks.
“Uh … mango?” Thomas answers. The commando hands off the cup and Daniel puts the straw to Thomas’s lips.
“Here drink this.”
Thomas takes a few sips like he’s not really thirsty; he’s just being polite. “It tastes like vanilla.”
Daniel’s really concentrating. “Just tell us what you want, friend. Tell us.”
Thomas buries his head in his hands. “I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
“Here. We’ll help you.” The commando opens the left side of his coat. It’s like a magazine rack of catalogs. Daniel calls them off. “CESSNAB Jeans? CESSNAB Music? CESSNAB Golf? CESSNAB Games?”
“Games?” Gonzo comes out of his safety crouch.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know!” The poor guy’s in a panic. Like he’s lost his happiness and can’t remember where he put it.
Daniel puts a hand on his shoulder. “Thomas. You know what you need? You need to go bowling.”
This is greeted by a chorus of “Amen’s.”
“I don’t think …” Thomas starts, but he’s cut off by the choir.
You’re special.
I’m special.
They’re special.
The whole world’s special, so don’t you forget it.
The Universe wants us
All to be happy,
Full of smiles and all that stuff,
