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By Marshall R. M. Hann Submitted by Blessed23 Date: 2017 Jan 08 Comment on this Work [[2017.01.08.05.31.18595]] |
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Today was my 33rd birthday and I woke up from the drink at 3:45pm. I cradled my phone for a while and then went to have a shower to wash the smell of shit from my horizontally growing body and my woman knocked on the door, though I did not know yet that it was her, but I finished my routine and dried myself off hair first upper-body second then squat down low, towel tucked between the knees. Stand up get the ass crack and just below the balls. Open the bathroom door and walk slowly towards the door to hear the whisperings of women plotting. It's 3:31am and I light a cigarette. it's about 4pm and I open the door and my woman smiles and hands me some cupcakes that she heard me request once as I bullshitted to some paragon hum in the darkness when I had nothing to say. I think that she may not understand that she doesn't actually understand me. I don't understand the truth today, so I guess that makes us even. I tried to give 'em back, but she ran so I resigned myself to defeat and closed the door.  I looked about and called to my remaining cat, Bub, and asked "you want one?" Bub just stared at me for a few seconds and turned around and stuck her uppity ass up at my face and walked away. I laid them down by the entrance and walked back inside. Teeth scrubbed clothing put on, hair made fake and still. I punch in. Some "Would you like a refill?"s with an  "All finished there, folks?" punctuated by another "Oh, gods, help me, what is it that keeps me chained to this Twilight Zone crazy burning floor? The flames up to your waist deadpanly symbiotically making you humble and managing to make each minute your minute each minute for just a few minutes." And it's 9:05pm, still it's my birthday, torturously and a woman walks into the restaurant and she says "for three, please." I put her at a booth and continue about my boring hour with little else but a couple "have a good night, folks." At 9;30 the rest of her table comes in, it's four, not three. They order at 9:45. The one Guy out of the four of them tries to joke with me, unsuccessfully, I should add. And these fuckers stayed an hour past close and 59 minutes before I could have been done even after he made sure I sang to his daughter for her birthday even without another soul in the restaurant (the fucking godamned fucker), then he has the balls to tip me 4%. I've been one hell of a piece of shit in my life, but I've never forgotten to return kindness or beauty when I've been lucky enough in my Russian Roulette of a life to have it lay down with me. I've never forgotten that the waitresses and waiters of the world are poor, trodden on souls, so I've always tipped the poor bastards well and been thankful for any goodness that brings itself my way 'cause it's all fleeting and transient "okay." Fuck it, I made a hundred bucks and I'm going home. I crack a beer and THE LAST NIGHT OF THE EARTH POEMS and sink into my couch. it's 4:16am and I light a smoke. It's another night, another day passed another day insignificant, unholy, crucified, a mistake of youth. I sit here now drunk at 4:31 am after a day of what was perhaps meaninglessness. And you mean to tell me that you still think that I have worth? Celebrate what? Tell me why. Don't bullshit me, darling, I've seen enough to know that I ain't special. The sun's gonna rise soon I need to sleep, so au revoir. |