"Happiness" Alternate Ending

This is my alternate ending to Wil Fergusen's novel "Happiness." My ending picks up after chapter fifty-one. At this point, Edwin de Valu is typing Jack McGreary's story "How to be Miserable" as the author dictates it to him.

"How to be Miserable" did not quite catch on as Edwin had predicted. His initial hopes for a revival of misery, controversy, and grumpiness were beginning to fade. Traces of the book's influence could be seen every now and then. Occasionally, one could walk down the street and hear a faint whisper of sarcasm or a snide comment. Edwin was particularly overjoyed one morning, on his way to Panderic Inc., to find a young teenage girl arguing with her mother over a pair of stilettos that she wanted. Eventually, Edwin began to live for those moments, those precious moments of conflict and unrest. Although the world was not nearly perfect, (or shall I say, it WAS nearly perfect), Edwin's life seemed to be taking a turn for the better. Both Jack McGreary and Harry Lopez appeared on television in a desperate attempt to quench the spreading happiness craze. Mr. Ethics was in a 7-Eleven convenience store where he was recognized by the store clerk from a Wanted poster. As swiftly as he escaped, the cookey old doctor was wisked back into his cell. Mr. Mead, the pompous old man, retained his job at Panderic. He still ordered Edwin around, still combed his remaining whisps of greying hair over his shining bald scalp, and still seemed unsatisfied with the success of his company.

Little of this mattered to Edwin. On what he would refer to later as the "best day of his life," Edwin stumbled into work with his dress shirt wrinkled and a hang-over unlike any he had experienced before to find a note placed on his desk. The envelop, teetering atop a stack of slush-pile worthy manuscripts and junk mail, was addressed to Edwin in curvy, familiar handwriting. Most importantly, it was marked with a crayola red lipstick print- a kiss Edwin had been dreaming of for months. He slashed open the top of the envelop, heart pounding, and began to read:

Dear Edwin,

I cannot express to you how many versions of this letter are crumpled up

in my garbage can. I hope that this attempt will serve its purpose.

The last time that you saw me, I rejected your offer. You wished me to join you

on your journey, to run away and escape this joyful mess-of-a-world. I said no, rejected

you and fled on my own quest for everlasting bliss. I have only now come to

realize that the very thing I was searching for was in you all along. I cannot say that

I love you Edwin, because I still don't know if what I feel is truely love.

All I can say is that I need to find out. I need to explore our relationship further.

I want to give us a chance, and I'm hoping that you do too.

Sincerely,

May

At this, Edwin was taken aback. He had been dreaming about a letter like this for many months. Now that it had come, he didn't quite know what to think. Sitting down, he began to write his response.

The following morning, Edwin walked down to the post office. Letter in hand, he sauntered up to the drop-off bin. He lifted its lid and gingerly slid the letter inside. Then, he walked away, not looking back. On to Panderic Inc. he trudged. He still had his own manuscript "Die Baby-Boomers, Die!" that needed some editing. That book, he had a feeling, was going to be a tremendous, best-selling hit.