Hate fills my body. It oozes out through my skin like sweating garlic, and my stomach turns angrily.
I run to the bathroom.
Dry heaves.
It’s still there. And getting stronger.
Fill the tub.
Hot? Cold?
Try hot first.
See if it works. Try to wash off the rage.
Scrub. Scrub hard. Scrub harder.
It’s not working. It’s only getting worse.
Maybe if I drink something?
Water? Beer? Wine?
Vodka. I’ll drink vodka.
Lots of vodka.
It won’t stop the hate. It will make me too drunk to do anything about it.
I drink, and lay back in the tub.
Category: My stories
Sleep Well
I don’t sleep well.
And I don’t like sleeping pills.
So, I my doctor sent me to a sleep clinic.
They stuck wires on my head and hooked me to a computer.
It wasn’t easy to get to sleep, but the bed was so comfortable and the place was very relaxing.
When I woke up, the computer said it was elves.
You can’t do anything about that.
So, I redecorated my bedroom with the same bed, same wallpaper, and same computer.
Sticking wires on my head.
Everything is the same.
Plus, shitloads of mousetraps scattered on the floor.
Goddamned elves.
Snake Handlers
I saw a snake in our yard. It was long and black.
I took a picture of it and sent it to Facebook.
“That’s a water moccasin,” a friend said. “It’s poisonous.”
We called 911, who told us to call 311. They sent us to Animal Control, but they said they don’t do snakes. “Call a snake wrangler.”
They didn’t have the number handy. And Siri kept offering to download “Snakes On A Plane” for 99 cents.
We eventually got it trapped in a heavy burlap sack.
Finally, we looked up Animal Control’s address and slipped it into their mailbox.
When we were friends
We recently added Netflix to our television.
I’ve been watching complete series of various shows for the past month.
But today, I started watching the old series Twin Peaks.
It’s so old, that it’s in the old four by three format.
The picture looks plastic-smooth, and yet grainy. Upconverting artifacts of a filmed television series.
The black curtains on either side of the television feel strange… I’ve gotten used to widescreen.
I’m not watching this to watch it. I’m watching it to remember when I first watched it.
Who I watched it with. With friends.
When they were still friends.
Half Day
My secretary Mary is talking a half-day today.
“Are you taking the morning off or the afternoon off?” I ask her.
She laughs. “I’m taking the even minutes off.”
I ask her what the hell that means.
She puts her hand in my face “I’m off the clock.”
“Off the clock?”
She doesn’t respond… so, I wait.
Eventually, she gets back to typing.
“Odd minute. I’m back to work.”
And she types for a minute… then stops.
I gather up some cardboard boxes and put them by her desk.
“Now you’ve got the whole day off,” I say. “You’re fired.”
Schools Were Closed
Monday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there were icy conditions on the roads, so they couldn’t run the buses.
Tuesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there was a hurricane warning.
Wednesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said that there were wildfires in the area that were threatening populated areas.
Thursday, schools were closed because the weatherman warned of flash floods.
And on Friday, schools were closed.
No, the weatherman didn’t say anything.
It was because everybody with children had moved away.
What kind of person would raise their kids in a crazy place like this?
Kona Wired
The owner of the company came back from Hawaii with a suitcase full of bags of coffee.
This isn’t suspicious at all to airport security. They just perform the usual agricultural inspection.
He gave me a bag of ground Kona as a gift.
I thanked him, and when I got home, I brewed a cup to try.
That was eight hours ago. I’m sitting in the tub, wired beyond all capacity to sleep.
It was only one cup. And what a cup it was!
I think I’ll have another.
It’s not like I’m going to be able to sleep, right?
Sports Sunday
The Texans were in Baltimore, doing their best to let the Ravens win.
Schaub threw his obligatory pick-six early, the Ravens ran a punt back for a touchdown, and all the Texans could manage was a pack of field goals.
I spent more time looking at my laptop, watching the live update of the blowout the Astros were suffering in Cleveland.
That’s when I picked up my Steve Jobs biography and headed for the tub.
Sunday is for sports on TV, but the Texans and Astros never got the message.
Maybe when it’s cooler outside, I’ll go read out there.
Crazy One
My sister has severe brain damage.
The surgeries to keep her condition from getting worse have made her unstable.
And the medicine makes her even more unstable.
So when she calls someone fucking crazy, they’re really fucking crazy.
Or are they?
The fact that she’s unstable, brain damaged, and perpetually drugged to the gills casts doubt on her credibility, right?
She can’t even identify colors. Or order anything other than a Big Mac and fries without freaking out.
No, she is the crazy one. Not me.
The voices agree with me, too. I’m not crazy at all.
Not one bit.
Census
Alvin The Census Taker goes door to door, asking questions and collecting data on his tablet.
He takes notes on the places with decent stuff to steal and without burglar alarms.
His cousin looks over the maps. He tries to mix up his collection route so the cops don’t see a pattern.
“They don’t give a fuck,” says Alvin. “My place got robbed five times, and I never got anything back.”
His cousin coughs, keeps looking over the maps.
He only robbed Alvin once.
Mistook a map to his place for a collection map.
He’s a lot more careful now.