First, I’m sorry your brother got arrested. I really really fucking am. I understand what it feels like, all a tingle to be out late on a school night, giddily celebrating the freedom of wind rushing through your hair and flippantly breaking the most boring social laws…like drug possession and larceny…and trying to think up the story your totally gonna lay on your dad about how you are a grown up now and you can stay out as late as you fucking want and BAM, the Po Po puts those red and blues into your rear window and the night is goddamned ruined. I’ve been there comrade. And honestly, I wish I could have been “fucking awesome” and given you the ride to the gas station you so desperately needed, oh total stranger, which would only be “a mile or so dude” and happily patted your filthy head as you made your way out of my life and back to home and safety and the stickiest if ickies. But the reality of the situation is that I’m only human. I don’t trust you because you are sweating profusely, limping weirdly, and kind of smell like carpet cleaner. So long story short, I gave you my two bucks to get rid of your gold bricking ass. Please don’t act offended that it’s not a crisp new C-note. My front yard is not a place I’m normally prepared to be propositioned in the middle of the night. Also, let me suggest you buy your meth in a neighborhood that’s, well, not a fucking neighborhood asshole. And bring bus fair next time. Jerkoff.
As if I haven’t had enough loafing in my life tonight, I’ve got another drunk camped out in my backyard without permission.
There’s only room enough for one drunk in this cabana hombre and my carlo-rossi sangria jug says that rooms occupied.
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