i think to myself, why am i here again? the pay is laughable. in fact if you cant laugh at it then you need to quit. the phones always ring and never happy people on the other end. the work is dangerous. i should have been dead a long time ago. and nobody ever says thank you.
i say thank you but sarcastically. tony, theres a shoot out in korea town, no chopper, just get there and pick up the peices.
thank you, boss.
picking up the peices means stand in the shadows and steal the getaway car or the money or the jewels or whatever loot that might get left behind, guns, ammo, phony social security cards, laptops. lots of times theres clues about ongoing heists happening or soon-to-be jobs, or nudie pics of bad guys’ girlfriends. it’s never a bunch of valueable stuff, but sometimes it is. however there is a fire fight happening and nobody knows which side im on so my likelihood of being shot is very high.
their likelihood of missing and me shooting them, however, is higher, so watch it bitch.
some guys meditate in the morning, i write you.
some guys need to get their heads together, i need to get the writing done.
some guys need their coffee and their donut or frappuchino and bagel, i just need an apple juice and a slice of pound cake, maybe a mcdonalds egg bacon cheese biscuit, but only if i was good.
last night i wasnt good. miss montreal wanted me to go to her house. i didnt want to do that. you should see this girl though. her roommate got on the phone and started yelling at me in french saying she was taking it personally that i never wanted to go to their house.
the place is full of french canadian beauty queens but im a homebody and i know what would go on over there. and who needs a bunch of people asking you questions and slowly picking you apart. the roommate said that there would be a car at my house at 7:30pm. it was 7:10pm. i said, how about 8:10pm, they said 7:45pm i said what time will this car take me home. she said 11pm you will be back at home. so i said, fine pick me up at 8:10. and i explained that i hadnt showered or shaved since friday. so they agreed to 8:10.
my girl arrived and looked good, smelled good. has some curves that defy gravity. sassy little smile. she’d been sick all weekend and of course the only night that we had to wake up early the next day would she be available. its ok though. canadian kisses are sweet.
we collected my things and she drove me up the hills to their mansion in the trees. very natural place, springs, butterflies, lightening bugs.
everyone was getting ready to watch Paradise Hotel, which i admit ive been following. three couples then us. i was very uncomfortable. if im being in couple mode i usually end up with at least one hand in an inappropriate place that gets slapped away. sorry.
afterwards people wanted to play a board game. i wanted to go home. i wanted to make out. she didnt want to give me her cold. gimme your cold, baby. she shook her head and wouldnt give me a kiss.
i had showered shaved clothed removed myself from writing all this beautiful literature for your collective behinds and i wasnt even going to get a kiss. hmmm. back in the day i would have pouted or been upset, but in a month and a half im going to be 110 years old.
i settled for the hand relief, kissed her cheek, dodged the paparazzi and slipped into the back door. the phone was ringing with hot chicks, but i unplugged the wire and prepared some cold cereal.
within an hour i was asleep.