picked up this guy in West LA on a sunny day

it was beautiful, no traffic, i was feeling great.

picked him up near Bundy, over by The Park Nobody Is Allowed To Use.

his wife had driven his car to a repair shop that previous night and asked if they could remove the smell of 47 year-old asshole

when he returned from work later that night, they argued, again, a nightly occurrence, and she finally admitted to him where his car could be found.

so i was taking him to the shop in Santa Monica.

it wasn’t a long drive, but in it he told me how they had met in their early 20s, had a beautiful marriage and produced two great kids.

but over the last 4-5 years she has been unbearable, always snapping at the kids, yelling at him. Doing the weirdest things.

he thinks she’s bipolar. he’s moved out of the house. but the hardest thing on him is what to tell his teenage kids.

he was damn near crying in my backseat.

i said, this is what id say to the kids

say, you know how when your computer has a virus and the cursor jumps all over the place and the sound won’t work?

it’s still Your computer, the one that you love, the one that showed you all the cool things

it’s just sick and needs to get fixed.

your mom really does love you and always will. she just has to go into the shop.

and then he really started crying.

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