Monday, November 06, 2006

...you know

..this is no way to welcome the bastard home. hey, new york. i just spent 3 days out in the desert defending your ass from people who will never get out of the sand (well it's not really a sandy sort of desert. more like a rocky desert) to see for themselves that we're not a a city full of dicks and what do you do? you act like a buncha dicks. now i'm not asking for a whole "hey wow! welcome home bastard" but, if i wanted to spend my train trip chewing on your triple fat goose jacket, i would have had one for breakfast. and while i am normally not one to ride the folks at the local coffee-teria about customer service, it's not my job to bag my coffee while i'm spilling it all over my hand. that's why you guys get the best medical in all of part timedom as well as two free pounds a month. i know what you're concentrating on the whole counting thing and i'm sure now that you're the sort of girl who moves her mouth while reading and all but, come on, my hand is burning. hmmmmmmm, maybe i would have preferred a heroes welcome. can anyone organize a parade for me the next time i come back from arizona? nothing big, just one where i don't get coffee spilt on me.

—the bastard

6 comments:

b o o said...

i don't drink coffee.

bastard central said...

these things happen. we can replace the word coffee with hot beverage-ateria then

Damnation Mistress said...

mmmm coffee... going to now...

mofo said...

triple fat goose, huh? That's sooooo 1989, you should have told him his jacket was toy.

bastard central said...

well,

he was alittle on the wack sack. however i was much too busy cold lamping to set him straight. oh, i mean drinking coffee. mmmmmmmmmm coffee.

—b

mofo said...

boo, however, does not drink coffee.