The Whole Kit ‘n’ Caboodle

Let’s Just Call It a River, Nosey

Anything past introspection is too much to bear–
cave-dwelling associations spring to mind, replete
with dank corners and piles of old books.

You hear it come from a minute away at about sixty miles an hour,
only to turn on a dime and squeal away with pie in its pants.

The dispatcher was a bit quick that time, but it’s no problem;
you’re used to it by now. Thought you didn’t have the time.

Squeeze it all into a sleeping bag sack and toss it over a bridge.
Who cares what the bridge covers? Let’s just call it a river, nosey.

Prick

R: This tiramisu is stale. Any chance you have something fresher lying around?

J: This tiramisu is only two hours old, sir. We make ours fresh every day.

R: Two hours, huh? I guess my palate is sensitive to restaurant bullshit.

J: Excuse me, sir?

R: You made it two hours ago and threw it in the fridge. I’m not eating this.

J: I’ll be happy to take it back and replace it with a new dessert, on the house.

R: Yeah, you’d like that. Some four hour-old chocolate cake, yesterday’s cannoli. You’ll stop at nothing to humiliate your customers’ good tastes. I’m outta here.

J: Sir, your check!

R: You can handle it. [huffs away]

J: No, I can’t afford $400 for a single meal when I work for tips five times a week! Pompous bastard.

Proportionately

Anyway, I’m looking across the room from under my ten dollar straw hat and I see the source of the odor: a potato chip bag with a hole through the bottom. I grab my hat and hoot at the waiter to get that sorry ass bag out of my sight, and he obliges immediately. It’s not typical of me to shake a man’s hand after such a menial task, but I really think he did a bang up job on that litter.

The Back Page Thought Progression 2(b)

Scratching my eye usually brings a tear, but not today for some reason. Perhaps I was meant to see something important during that second of undisturbed vision. I remember seeing some curtains. Curtains? Curtains mean absolutely nothing!

Chronicles of You – #5

You ate a burrito with my name on it in magic marker just to spite me? That’s really using your noggin. For all we know, you could have cancerous cells growing in your esophagus as we speak, burrowing themselves into the healthy tissue and setting up a lengthy picnic that could possibly migrate to the stomach as the week goes on. I know you assumed that I wasn’t going to eat it. That’s really quite marvelous.