not the only one having a bad day
Earlier this evening, I was walking up a dead dark cold late-afternoon street looking for people to maim and kill so I could get a bowl of soup.
Across the street, a haggard, tattered, battered man fell off his bicycle, which had been pulling a wagon holding a case of Old Milwaukee beer. Cans were scattered across the dirty street. He picked up a can, pulled off the tab, and was met with a geyser of foam. FUCK! He scooped up another can and threw it hard onto the street, where it sprayed like an abandoned garden sprinkler. THE WHOLE CASE IS RUINED. IT'S FRIDAY NIGHT AND I'VE WORKED HARD JUST SO I CAN DROWN MY FUCKING BRAIN CELLS IN 24 CANS OF CHEAP FUCKING SHIT BEER, AND NOW I HAVE TO GO HOME AND STARE AT FOUR WALLS AND TRY NOT TO THINK ABOUT THE FACT THAT I HAVE A REVOLVER IN MY NIGHT TABLE.
He didn't say those things, of course. But I could tell he was thinking them just by watching him pedal away.
