FML
this is turning into a long days journey into night.
seriously FML.
fucking hurricane…
fucking snowicane…
ever the resourceful one, the bastard gets up offs that thing and books for the E train.
a few stops later I get to the thorough borough and get in the F.
you see…
it's like this…
I ain't gonna let the city beat me…
this is my city…
and if I say we negotiate a new route…
it's what we do
cause the bastard is a frikkin knight of the rails.
yippy kay yay jerks.
Get to the surface and its a frozen hell in the ghetto...
This is too much queens for the uninitiated...
Lines everywhere and the snow is piling the hell up...
Undaunted, the bastard wades into the q1 line and sidles up to some subway grill...
You know...
To get some heat, homeless man style...
And I got some news for you...
It ain't all that warm up in that piece...
This explains why the homeless ride the damn F train all night during the winter.
Did I mention that I saw a homeless woman on the F train with a mini skirt and flip flops?
His name was Parnell, and his legs went on forever...
and then I threw up a little bit in my whiskey just now...
And then I mixed it into a jug with some hobo's delight and some thundershevitz and it was excellent.
But after a while, every hardened New Yorker has to call in the Calvary and that was the shrink who drove his magical jeep to the ghetto to get me the hell out of there.
Curiously enough, the bus had arrived as he called, so if I dug in my heels like an idiot, I could have actually made it home alive.
Lets hear it for my progress towards being less proud and bullheaded...whiskey for everyone
I mean me.
—the bastard
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