The Happiness Project
By Will Musgrove
October 15, 2022
October 15, 2022
The Happiness Project arrives in a manila envelope. My mail carrier, a middle-aged man who rain or shine smiles in his blue, government-issued uniform, slaps the envelope into my hand. He swears what’s inside saved his marriage, will change my whole outlook on life. I thank him, and he drives away belting a rendition of “If You’re Happy and You Know It.” His tiny truck turns the corner with a clap.
I take the envelope inside my apartment and set it on the coffee table. Two weeks ago, I found an advertisement for The Happiness Project glued into the binding of a health magazine and mailed a check for $49.99 to the provided address. What did I have to lose (well, other than $49.99)?
I open the envelope. A single sheet of paper flutters out.
Dearest unhappy person,
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are three unalienable rights guaranteed to all of us. Nevertheless, they can be hard to obtain, with happiness being the most elusive. Don’t fret. The Happiness Project will guide you on this journey, and soon you’ll be overflowing with the stuff. All you need to do is follow the easy self-help steps outlined below.
Sincerely,
The Happiness Project Team
(The Happiest People on Earth)
1. Stay Positive
Standing at the bus stop on my way to work at Merry Gas and Fill Up, I stay positive. Fast-food cheeseburgers are cheap and delicious. I write this statement in my gratitude journal. Along with cheeseburgers, there’s a slew of other items I’m thankful for. To ward off the encroaching negativity, the number of calories in each bite, the heart-damaging cholesterol, the unethical nature of factory farming, I hum.
I glance at my wristwatch. The bus is late. If I’m not clocked in on time to replace my boss Jerry, he’ll threaten termination.
Stay positive. Stay positive.
I’m outside. The weather’s nice. Worrying won’t make the bus come any quicker.
“Stay positive,” I hum-sing. “Stay positive.”
Splat.
I run a hand through my hair. Bird poop sticks to my fingers. Who am I to complain? Being shit on from above is supposed to be good luck, right?
2. Be Kind
I see Jerry through Merry Gas and Fill Up’s glass front door. He stares at me like a coach wondering where my hustle has gone. I jog then sprint. The bells tied to the door jingle as I enter the gas station, and Jerry’s a moon stuck in the gravity of my ineptitude.
Be kind. Be kind.
It wasn’t my fault the bus was late. He’ll understand.
Jerry follows me into the back, shouting and abandoning customers to wait until I clock in and get settled behind the counter.
“You look great today, Jerry,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“What?” he responds. “Screw you!”
3. Be Realistic
A man dressed in flannel slams a lid-less cup of coffee on the counter. Lukewarm coffee splatters everywhere, on the lottery machine, on the gum rack, on the March of Dimes donation can, on my cheeks. The man’s arms swing outward, transforming him into a T, like the taste of the coffee had nailed him to a cross.
“This coffee’s cold and stale,” the man says.
“Sorry, I just got here but—”
“I don’t want excuses. I want coffee.”
“Okay, I can—”
“You’d think you’d be able to do something as simple as make coffee.”
“Like I said, I—”
“Know what, I’m not paying for this crap,” the man says, picking up the coffee cup and leaving.
“Sir, you—”
Be realistic. Be realistic.
Who am I to stop him? I shuffle outside and see the man crank his SUV around the pumps and peel out of the parking lot, his tailpipe gushing black smoke. The smoke floats upward and dissipates. I’m smoke, too. I’m a resource to be burned away.
4. Get Plenty of Sleep
I stumble around Merry Gas and Fill Up and lie down next to the Dumpster. Resting my head against the cool, green metal, I close my eyes.
I’m posing on a pedestal dressed only in my underwear. People in lab coats race around me. They measure my limbs and waistline with rulers and draw on my skin with laser pointers.
“He’s the happiest one yet,” one of the lab coats says. “Get him ready for the infomercial.”
Another lab coat smacks an As-Seen-On-TV sticker on my chest and begins wheeling me toward a camera. I can’t stop grinning. No matter how terrified I feel, no matter how lonely and sad I feel, I’m not allowed to stop grinning.
5. Reflect
I awake to a woman lightly shaking my shoulder. Her face is as lean as a doorway. I want to walk through.
“Are you happy?” she says.
I shake my head. She extends an arm. I grip her hand, and she lifts me up. I think she might kiss me, but instead she whispers into my ear.
“Tell me, what does it mean to be happy?”
I don’t know the answer.
She removes a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and hands it to me. I unfold it.
Written on it is:
Dearest unhappy person,
Pack well for your long, long journey ahead.
Sincerely,
The Happiness Project Team
(The Happiest People on Earth)
I take the envelope inside my apartment and set it on the coffee table. Two weeks ago, I found an advertisement for The Happiness Project glued into the binding of a health magazine and mailed a check for $49.99 to the provided address. What did I have to lose (well, other than $49.99)?
I open the envelope. A single sheet of paper flutters out.
Dearest unhappy person,
Life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness are three unalienable rights guaranteed to all of us. Nevertheless, they can be hard to obtain, with happiness being the most elusive. Don’t fret. The Happiness Project will guide you on this journey, and soon you’ll be overflowing with the stuff. All you need to do is follow the easy self-help steps outlined below.
Sincerely,
The Happiness Project Team
(The Happiest People on Earth)
1. Stay Positive
Standing at the bus stop on my way to work at Merry Gas and Fill Up, I stay positive. Fast-food cheeseburgers are cheap and delicious. I write this statement in my gratitude journal. Along with cheeseburgers, there’s a slew of other items I’m thankful for. To ward off the encroaching negativity, the number of calories in each bite, the heart-damaging cholesterol, the unethical nature of factory farming, I hum.
I glance at my wristwatch. The bus is late. If I’m not clocked in on time to replace my boss Jerry, he’ll threaten termination.
Stay positive. Stay positive.
I’m outside. The weather’s nice. Worrying won’t make the bus come any quicker.
“Stay positive,” I hum-sing. “Stay positive.”
Splat.
I run a hand through my hair. Bird poop sticks to my fingers. Who am I to complain? Being shit on from above is supposed to be good luck, right?
2. Be Kind
I see Jerry through Merry Gas and Fill Up’s glass front door. He stares at me like a coach wondering where my hustle has gone. I jog then sprint. The bells tied to the door jingle as I enter the gas station, and Jerry’s a moon stuck in the gravity of my ineptitude.
Be kind. Be kind.
It wasn’t my fault the bus was late. He’ll understand.
Jerry follows me into the back, shouting and abandoning customers to wait until I clock in and get settled behind the counter.
“You look great today, Jerry,” I say, trying to sound convincing.
“What?” he responds. “Screw you!”
3. Be Realistic
A man dressed in flannel slams a lid-less cup of coffee on the counter. Lukewarm coffee splatters everywhere, on the lottery machine, on the gum rack, on the March of Dimes donation can, on my cheeks. The man’s arms swing outward, transforming him into a T, like the taste of the coffee had nailed him to a cross.
“This coffee’s cold and stale,” the man says.
“Sorry, I just got here but—”
“I don’t want excuses. I want coffee.”
“Okay, I can—”
“You’d think you’d be able to do something as simple as make coffee.”
“Like I said, I—”
“Know what, I’m not paying for this crap,” the man says, picking up the coffee cup and leaving.
“Sir, you—”
Be realistic. Be realistic.
Who am I to stop him? I shuffle outside and see the man crank his SUV around the pumps and peel out of the parking lot, his tailpipe gushing black smoke. The smoke floats upward and dissipates. I’m smoke, too. I’m a resource to be burned away.
4. Get Plenty of Sleep
I stumble around Merry Gas and Fill Up and lie down next to the Dumpster. Resting my head against the cool, green metal, I close my eyes.
I’m posing on a pedestal dressed only in my underwear. People in lab coats race around me. They measure my limbs and waistline with rulers and draw on my skin with laser pointers.
“He’s the happiest one yet,” one of the lab coats says. “Get him ready for the infomercial.”
Another lab coat smacks an As-Seen-On-TV sticker on my chest and begins wheeling me toward a camera. I can’t stop grinning. No matter how terrified I feel, no matter how lonely and sad I feel, I’m not allowed to stop grinning.
5. Reflect
I awake to a woman lightly shaking my shoulder. Her face is as lean as a doorway. I want to walk through.
“Are you happy?” she says.
I shake my head. She extends an arm. I grip her hand, and she lifts me up. I think she might kiss me, but instead she whispers into my ear.
“Tell me, what does it mean to be happy?”
I don’t know the answer.
She removes a folded piece of paper from her back pocket and hands it to me. I unfold it.
Written on it is:
Dearest unhappy person,
Pack well for your long, long journey ahead.
Sincerely,
The Happiness Project Team
(The Happiest People on Earth)
Will Musgrove is a writer and journalist from Northwest Iowa. He received an MFA from Minnesota State University, Mankato. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in TIMBER, The McNeese Review, Oyez Review, Tampa Review, Vestal Review, and elsewhere. Connect on Twitter at @Will_Musgrove or williammusgrove.com.