...not a damn thing.the bastard's ceiling is getting painte, so he runs out of the house to avoid explaining to the house painter why i can't cram everything i own into the boy's room.
didn't work. he is impeccably on time.
station is crowded with people doing the hokey pokey on the fucking platform.
"this is v train"; you put your left foot in
"we're running express"; you take your left foot out
"we're being held in the station"; you put your left foot in
"but we're running express to woodhaven blvd"; and you bash the bastard in the knuckles with your big ass handbag that you should be paying attention to asshole!!!
and that's what it's all about.
the bright spot was that my favorite breakfast crack dealer was there at the end of all of this to give the bastard his bacon, egg, and cheese on a roll and i listened to some guy order coffee with 4 equals.
sounded like someone should have ordered some coffee with his formaldehyde.
oh well, i guess you gotta die of something and the bastard doesn't want to go to jail until he gets to vegas.
—the bastard
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