we were getting shot at today

a saturday!

i hardly ever have to work saturdays and here i was on the wrong side of an assault rifle.

in my earpeice during some silence my partner whispered:

why dont you ever say how fucking fucked up this xbi shit is on your gayass fucking fucked up fucking baaaa-looooooooog.

and i thought about it and i just shrugged my shoulders and picked off a perp on the roof above a dumpster who


into the garbage,


cuz thats how everyone dies in real life.

on good days the lid closes after they fall as rattled doves scatter into the sky and the young girls swoon and continue walking to korean school.

yeah the xbi sucks. sucks so bad i thought to myself (while under a car, mind you) “when did work start blowing so much?”

then i thought, “im a college graduate!”

then i thought, “ive had a poem published in the connecticut poetry review!”

and then i heard what sounded like a molitof cocktail smash through the window of the car above me and i rolled out from under it and hightailed it like a pussyass.

turned out it was just a brick being thrown at me and i blew my cover.

(where do they get all these bricks?)

and now you know why we dont do saturdays.

mcdonalds was my first bad job. but it was also my first job so i didnt know at the time if it was mcdonalds that sucked or working.

believe it or not my next shitty job was selling ice cream out of a truck the summer the cubs put light up in wrigley field. the ladies were cute, the kids were cute, the money sucked, but thats not what made the job shitty, it was that i had to work 6 days a week and i was so exhausted with only one day off.

my year of driving a cab for the fbi wasnt much fun cuz it was so dull and all the russian cabbies were always trying to make me quit.

cabbing. not fbiing.

bad part about saturdays is you have to go to sleep early on friday.

good thing about saturdays is youre usually done before 9am, and afterwards we get some mcdonalds bacon egg and cheese biscuits and we’re home by 10am.

with a little spending cash for saturday night.

which i now have.

and a bruise the size of a melon on my ass when the car exploded and the passengers side mirror nailed me.

which i cant wait to show my truist when she picks me up tonight to see courtney love, juliette lewis and the licks, with the suicide girls at the wiltern.

and you know what else is nice about saturdays

ten thirty naps.

soulful spells + whitey + i aint scared to say it

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