My best friend told the police I beat her. They came to confiscate my guns. I loved her. I took care of her when she fell in the parking lot of the East street coffee shop and broke her wrist. I told them I had a BB gun. They left papers which she wrote and signed that I threw her down the stairs. She left in the Chevy Cruize I had co-signed a loan on. It took three months , lots of money and a Good Lawyer to rectify the situation. I loved her.
Life is just a bunch of moments. What if I kicked the bucket tomorrow?
Billions before me have already kicked it. Nobody really knows where you are going. This mystery is very scary. I will keep going, I will carry on. Enjoying life whenever possible.
I have goals: I want to make whoopie with a woman at least one more time. I want to get a kidney transplant and get my energy back. I want to fall in love. If I can achieve all three goals I expect many more happy moments.
We are not yet married but she has already assumed the role of one who must be obeyed. I cringe when she talks of pain in her back and my world spirals down like a Netflix horror movie. As we lie in bed, the sheets move and bad smells happen. She does sometimes say excuse me in a creepy voice.
We speak. She says, “the dog is peeing on the coat you left on the floor. You are a slob.”
We are looking forward to marriage.
Vance G was a crazy character. On the way back from away football games he would lead the team in singing, “spent the last year Rocky Mountain way,” then the team sang “ba na na na,” and then Vance, “couldn’t get much higher.” The team sang, “ba na na na.” This bonded us. He even sang it after a loss, which infuriated our head coach.
Later in life we shared a house. He was a womanizer which was fine with me. We had women coming and going. The sounds emanating from his room became a bit much, so I wore earplugs. When three of his rent checks bounced, we got into a fist fight. After that our friendship was never the same. He died several years back at the age of fifty from a brain infection. He will not be forgotten by me and not by many women.
I’ve worked over forty-nine jobs in the Frederick County area. That’s given me a wide range of work experiences, especially how to quit and how to get fired. I now command salaries of up to nine dollars an hour.
At my last job, my boss, Jena, a rather attractive woman asked me to please get to work. I winked at her and said, “Jena, there is nothing wrong with getting a little behind.”
That was my last day there.
I have sales experience in jewelry, real estate, fire alarms, frozen steaks, furniture, and marijuana. None of these jobs was lucrative, but selling marijuana helped me to get laid once.
One of my qualities is that I take jobs that require mindless labor and no responsibility, and focus on getting to know my co-workers. On the clock, I’m a real people person.
My main requirement now is that I work with women. My motto has always been: Work hard, play hard, but don’t play hard to get. I’ve always appreciated promiscuous female co-workers–without them, I wouldn’t have had nearly as much sex on the job.
I’m currently seeking employment as a Mystery Shopper inside dialysis clinics. Keeping a close eye on nurses comes naturally to me.
When I look back at my past, I can see that my future has to be better. It can’t be any worse. It is always darkest just before the light.
Elevator! Elevator! We got the shaft! The cheerleaders are doing a bang up job tonight. My prom date is co-captain. Her blond hair bobs into the air as she drops down to do a split. Her bouncing skirt revealing for a split second something that I would never get. My life is like that. You can’t always get what you want. I couldn’t get what I really needed.
Since I am always in the doghouse with my girlfriend, I would like to find a plastic surgeon to marry. A nip here, a tuck there, I could look twenty years younger. Then a kidney transplant, and replace other organs that have taken a beating. I’ll be good as new and ready for sex, drugs, and rock and roll.