All's Well That Ends Well | Teen Ink

All's Well That Ends Well MAG

By Anonymous

   I'm Joe Clich". Some people think that it's tougher than nails to talk in clich"s all of the time. But I say that you shouldn't count your chickens before they hatch. Because talking like this is as easy as 1-2-3. It's a piece of cake for me because I inherited my strange trait from my father; he can ramble on and on just shooting the breeze. He says that I'm a chip off the ol' block and that the acorn doesn't fall far from the tree. After perfecting my unusual skill with the help of the top dog, the big cheese, the head honcho, or in other words, my dad, I took the bull by the horns and went out into the wild blue yonder to see what was cooking. I landed a job as a newspaper columnist and I was as busy as a bee on my first day. All of my stories came right from the horse's mouth, but my editor said that my writing didn't amount to a hill of beans. Unfortunately, I soon got the ol' heave ho for putting my foot in my mouth. I knew I was skating on thin ice and that my goose was cooked. My boss said to hit the road, but I assumed he was just making a mountain out of a molehill. Now, it's going to be tough sledding to change horses in mid-stream. I know I need to turn over a new leaf. I need to find another job soon or I'll be up a creek without a paddle. I guess I'll just have to play it by ear and hope Lady Luck really helps me out. Otherwise, financially, I'll go bottoms up. One thing is for certain, being unemployed, I'll never be accused of having too many irons in the fire.

Trying to find another job, I felt like a small fish in a big pond. I knew pretty soon I would have to get on my high horse and nip this thing in the bud or I'd be a dead duck. A new job - I was really begining to get hung up on it! So, I put my nose to the grindstone and cast my fate to the wind and snatched up a career delivering the daily newspaper. I know some people would say that going from a reporter to a delivery boy is like going from the frying pan into the fire. Although it's a horse of a different color and some may thumb their nose at it, or say I've lost my marbles, I rally to the challenge. Even though I'm not rolling in dough, I'm able to bring home the bacon and put bread on the table. I figure a bird in the hand is better than two in the bush. Having the chance to get behind the wheel and enjoy the fresh air only proves that every cloud has a silver lining. When the chips are down and the ball is in my court, like cream, I manage to rise to the top. It doesn't matter to me whether I'm the toast of the town or the talk of the town as long as I'm happy at what I do and can whistle while I work. I figure I shouldn't cry over spilled milk because from now on it's smooth sailing and all downhill from here. fl

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