Situation Normal. Atmosphere Breathable. Brainstem Injected. Dialogue Engaged.
Wednesday, June 22, 2005

Chugging Bleach

I got myself all fixed up. On the way home yesterday, I took a detour down to the Elmhurst Buffalo Wild Wings for 35 cent wing Tuesdays. After departing with lots of hot wings and barbeque drumsticks, I landed home to watch baseball and clean my festering bedroom. After I finished with the mess I settled in for a hefty portion of chicken, grease, and gristle. I was lathered in sauce by the fourth inning. Today my ass is churning out Alpo in sporadic bellows blurts. It's worth the extra toilet paper every time. I have leftovers at home. Of the wings, not the Alpo.

The next step was laundry. I always feel sharper and happier in clean, freshly folded clothing. I arrived after nine and began my assault. First I slotted quarters, then I stuffed fabric, and finally I doused the lot with excessive quantities of syrupy detergent. I slammed the lids, tapped the buttons, and promptly departed the joint to go buy myself a movie to watch. I bought eight of them for forty dollars. More wasted money, sure, but at least it wasn't for drugs or beer.

When I returned to the 'mat I huddled myself on the windowsill and watched the pedestrian traffic drift along the gum-caked sidewalk. Kids on bicycles, tanktopped immigrants, and tired mothers wandered into the adjacent convenient mart for cigarettes, slurpees, and Soap Opera Digest. Nothing extraordinary.

Lots of police came and went. They bought sodas, coffees, twizzlers, pastries, and instant lottery scratchoffs. As I finished folding the last of my dry clothing, a young policeman pulled into the lot and exited his vehicle. Usually when a cop stops to look around and notice his surroundings, he's looking for evidence, perpetrators of crimes, or some poor slob to toy with. Not this one. His glances were fast and furtive. He trotted into the mart and emerged moments later with a box of wine coolers and a sly grin. He was no longer thinking about getting caught buying booze on the job. His mind was looking forward to something else. Now his demeanor had two things written all over it: abuse of authority and underage pussy. All he had to find now was some naive young girl with some pot in her pocket and a bigger fear of jail than of dick.

I left the laundromat. I left behind the grouchy Czech fellow with an acrid body odor, I left behind the gangly teen trying to read a fabric softener box, I left behind the unattended children humping the coin-op grabclaw machine full of stuffed animals, I left behind the pedestrian squalor of lower middle class Elmwood Park. I cruised back home, where I showered off the day's accumulated grime.

I settled in for a couple movies. I'm tired today, but I'm in a lot better mood.
1:21 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm


June 22, 2005 1:58 PM, Blogger Lostinspace said...

Omigosh. I LOVE hot wings. I could eat a million (and then, of course, have to run to the loo all day afterwards). Glad that you are in a better mood.

June 22, 2005 2:29 PM, Blogger ang said...

I didn't know who the hell that person was who posted yesterday.

Welcome back to the land of the living.

June 22, 2005 2:33 PM, Blogger Kerouaced said...

I think your dead on with your assumption that this cop was up to no good with underage booty. No real man drinks wine coolers...

June 22, 2005 4:06 PM, Anonymous sarcastrix said...

A well-painted picture of suburban life...

June 22, 2005 7:49 PM, Blogger Stace said...

Alpo. . . you kill me. I think I have to come here for my daily laugh. :)

June 22, 2005 9:57 PM, Blogger daniel said...

ooh blog topic. thanks. :D

June 23, 2005 8:57 AM, Anonymous Bobby said...

Cool post.

I knew these cops who would drink right after their shift. Their beat was the river front – the harbor – boat cops. They’d just turn their cop shirts inside out and go right into the bar after their shift.

June 23, 2005 11:19 AM, Blogger P/O said...


June 23, 2005 2:13 PM, Blogger Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm said...

Ameca, thanks!

Angela, thank you. I am okey-dokey. I just needed to walk a few miles in the heat to detoxify. It's pushing 90 degrees today and I'm going to walk six or seven miles after work.

Steve, I agree. Bartles & Jaymes and Lynchburg Lemonade are not real alcohol.

Sarcastrix, the further you get from Chicago, the worse it gets. Elmwood Park is just on the outskirts.

Stace, I thought using Kibbles & Bits for my analogy would be too vulgar.

No problem Daniel! I'll be watching for it.

Bobby, those cops sound decent.

P/O, I watched Paycheck, The Jimmy Show, and Real Knockers Vol. 23.

June 27, 2005 12:03 PM, Blogger Trendon vs the World said...

Not a big fan of wings, but here in NYC (I am not sure if they are big out by you), White Castle is the weakness of many.

They taste so good, but wreck unending havoc on your bowels. Thus, I understand your feeling. Sitting on the bowl in pain but smiling the whole time because it was worth every bite the night before.


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