I'm in suds up to my ears with nothing but a jock strap on. My pen's got a feather in it and I'm ready for something big, but my ass is submerged and I don't have the strength to go on. As I'm pining away in my thoughts, the little lady walks in.
Oh fuck, I think to myself, she hates it when I do this.
She waltzes in like she's 23 dreaming in a 58 year old's mind and kisses me on the forehead.
"Honey, I brought you some ginger and salt for that face of yours."
"Thanks baby, I appreciate it. "
I lick my lips and salt my teeth until there's nowhere to breathe anymore. My handsome little dick is already doing situps when she hops into the tub and looks at me as if you don't know what I mean.
Lucky for you we're all assholes, because god only knows if we weren't.
A few hours later I meet the good ol' boys for a pint and some bowling balls. I hate hanging out where I work so we decide to go to Cortlandt Lanes. They have Coors Light on draft and that's what we like. "Born to Run" is streaming out of those speakers and I'm ready for love. Pins are bouncing around and of course I won. The boys shake my hand but you know they're pissed. I go up to pay for my game and the guy at the counter tries to overcharge me. Fuckin' cheapskate, we're all just here for a good time. I throw him an extra bill for being a dick and head out through the automatic doors.
And then all of a sudden I wake up. I've rolled over into a damp spot on the side of the bed. My mouth feels like I just licked the sofa clean. I look outside and the cold harsh reality of Dakotie sets in. The machines need tending. Another day, another funeral.
