Friday, March 18, 2005
Friday Morning Blues
I was fed up with the virus yesterday afternoon. I decided not to wait for the weekend. I would eradicate it immediately. On my voyage home, I stopped and acquired a fifth of Wild Turkey 101. I drank about half before slurping a tray of lasagna and crashing unceremoniously to my mattress. I slipped away from consciousness as the sun sunk below the horizon.
I feel somewhat better today. I woke happy and nimble. I stopped at the gas station for my morning cup of soup. A pudgy fellow with a red goatee and a winter stocking cap was listening intently to his horoscope as the counter girl read it. An undernourished eastern European lad in red Adidas gear was poking the donuts to check their freshness while a grizzly flannel clad grump glared at him for damaging the eclair he coveted. A curlyhaired old man wore the wrong prescription eyeglasses, very thick too, and he had to stick his face right up to each coffee pot label to determine which variety he sought. This caused the lenses to fog and he became irascible quickly. He muttered each time he wiped his glasses clear. I slowly wandered the store gazing at junk food and fizzy drinks, unsure and noncommital, like a leprechaun in a copper mine.
I arrived at work shortly after six and had my soup. The chicken that floated in it looked like chewed, bleached gum or tar lumps, depending on whether it was intended to imitate white or dark meat. I skipped the chicken and stuck to the broth, carrots, and noodles. Now that my stomach has food, a slight hangover has announced its arrival. As a result, I can't wait for this day to perish.
I want my mommy. 7:11 AM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm
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