Saturday, July 12, 2014

A Good Day to Die Inside

So, I spent the day yesterday driving TOG and DYS to WalMart and then lunching at TOG’s favorite local café, where the food is boring, the help is always happy to be sexually harassed, and the other customers are polite enough to ignore TOG’s inappropriate behavior.

The day began when, as I drove up to the Vida Loco to pick up TOG and get his scooter attached to the lift, he handed me an empty paper coffee cup. Not satisfied with letting me do all the work of strapping the scooter to the lift while he simply stumbles into the air conditioned car to wait, he also had to hand me his trash to drop into the back seat to dispose of later. Which turned out to be rather undramatic foreshadowing.

At some point in the middle of the day, between telling me where I should have turned, TOG pointed out a car that was a very bright red. The, another one right after that! This single sample should suffice to symbolize the scintillating substance of the subjects of our discourse. I could feel the life force draining out of the tips of my fingers as the day progressed.

The day ended when I dropped DYS at her trailer and she was pulling her WalMart bags out of the back seat and there was a small box of “nice’n clean Lens Wipes” (with a cute blue drop of water as the apostrophe in the name) that remained on the back seat. When I asked isn’t this yours, she replied, no I don’t need it, thought you might want it.

Not only can these people not dispose of their own trash, the feel compelled to give it to others to do so.


The middle of the day went about as you’d expect given the start and finish. I went to the booze barn en route home in order salvage a shred of will to live. As I sat in my comfy chair drinking my gin and ginger ale, I cleaned my eyeglasses with a lens wipe and congratulated myself on surviving another day.

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