Influenza.

The word was getting around everywhere, and Steven was worried. He had lived with his girlfriend Gladice, and her pig scuffles, for the last three years. The pig didn’t bother him, it just sat there – Starring and snorting and sleeping. Gladice adored her pig. Every now and then she would take it for a walk out on the pier. And even though Steven didn’t agree that scuffles was a proper house-hold pet, he tolerated their living arrangements because he was madly in love with Gladice.

“Babe, what do want to eat tonight?” Gladice called out from the kitchen. Steven sat watching the 6 o’clock daily news.

“Not pork,” Steven responded, at which scuffles let out a faint yelp and ran to Gladice.

“Oh no, honey. You’ve scared scuffles.”

“Let’s not eat him.” Scuffles let out another faint yelp. “Have you heard of this swine flu virus?”

“Yeah, everyone at work is talking about it. We’re not allowed to come in if we get any similar symptoms. It’s a pandemic.” Steven, keeping his cool, stared at the TV, as Scuffles ran across the room in front of him, and wonder what if?

For the next couple of weeks, news of the swine flu were everywhere, and the fact that there was a pig living in his home made Steven a bit nervous.

“Two more people died today because of the H1N1 virus.”

“The deaths of another 19 children and teenagers from the new H1N1 virus were reported in the past week around the country.”

“Those infections likely worsened the illness and contributed to the deaths, six of which occurred in previously healthy people with no known medical conditions.”

“More than 1,100 people worldwide have died from swine flu since it emerged in Mexico and the U.S. in April”

The news was all around him. Conversations, newspapers, TV commercials; Steven decided he had enough. He ran home from work, slammed the door behind him, threw his jacket on the coat hanger, and yelled out, “Gladice, I’m leaving!”

“You’re seriously going to walk out of me because of my pig?” Gladice shouted from the front porch, still wearing pajamas under her night robe and slippers. It was cold out, fresh snow had fallen in the early morning. Steven was packing suitcases into the back of his truck.

“H1N1, baby. It’s everywhere.”

“Wait a minute.” Gladice walked down the steps to the drive way, standing just a few feet away from Steven, and asked, “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Of course I do. It’s the pig!”

“How can a relationship be ruined over a pig?”

“Get rid of it!”

“Why?”

“Do you want me to get sick and die, Gladice? Do you want to get sick and die.”

“Oh, don’t be dramatic. No one is dying.”

“Have you not watched the news lately? I’m leaving.” Steve climbed into his truck, turned to look at Gladice one last time, and drove off.

“But wait!” Gladice called out, then said to herself, “The swine flu doesn’t come from pigs… Douche.”

Lend a Hand.

As children, Adam and Philip didn’t mind social standards. Adam simply looked upon Philip as a fellow who shared the same interests, who he learned to trust, and thought of as a best friend. The boys would be off to the same university in the fall. Philip had worked his butt off during high school to maintain his 4.3 GPA, and even more in his attempt to receive as much scholarships as possible. On the contrary, Adam’s family was big money. He had his tuition fully covered since birth. Philip’s graduation celebration was a backyard barbeque. Adam’s was, to say the least, an extravaganza. The boys, dressed in their best attire, one arm over the other, held their diplomas high in the air, smiling in pride of their achievements.

Adam and Philip met again their senior year at the university; Adam’s pockets still burning with money, Philip’s still empty.

“Philip! How’ve you been?” Adam smiled, as he shook Philip’s hand, pulling him in for a hug. The boys, ecstatic to be reunited, carried on with their conversation.

“I’ve been good. Ready to graduate! I’ve already got a job lined up at the New York Post,” Philip explained.

“Journalism? Not bad.” Adam’s eyes stared at the ground, hands in his pockets, caressing the bunch of bills he was carrying. “Yeah, I’m going to Law School next year. Then I’ll be working at my dad’s firm. Family business, you know.” Adam chuckled.

“I see. You’re still living your father’s dreams.”

“They’re mine as well,” Adam lied.

“I remember differently.”

“Your memory is failing you.”

“You never wanted to be tied down because of the money.”

“Money,” Adam pondered. “Ha, this money is the highlight of my life. It’s a shame you don’t have any, really. Here, I’ll lend you a hand.” Adam took out a five dollar bill and held it out for Philip to take. “It’ll buy your meals for half a day.” Adam laughed.

“It’s sad that you have to depend on your daddy’s money. There’ll be a day when all you have will be worth nothing.” Philip snatched the bill from Adam’s hand. “I’ll have everything.”

Seven years later, Adam was working at his father’s law firm. On this particular day, he sat right across from his father. “What do you mean the money is gone?” Adam asked.

“I mean it’s gone,” his father told him. “The firm is shutting down. We’ve lost everything.” Adam felt like he had finally hit rock bottom. All this time his future was set. Now, he lost it all.

Seven years later, Philip had written and published a bestseller. On this particular day, he sat across a Hollywood director who had taken interest in making a film out of Philip’s novel. Philip felt that all his struggles were finally paying off. The money was only a small increment of a dream come true.

Later that month, Adam searched his pockets, scrabbling for enough change to buy a tall cappuccino at Starbucks. After collecting his drink, he turned around, and stopped in his tracks.

“Philip,” Adam said. Philip, about to order his drink, turned to look at Adam.

“Adam,” Philip replied. “How’s the high life?”

“The firm shut down. How’s the low life?”

“Bestseller. Hollywood.”

“I see now money is the highlight of your life.”

“Not at all. I’d be happy to lend you a hand.” Philip pulled out the same five dollar bill Adam gave him seven years ago. “It’ll buy your meals, for about, half a day?”