Friday, November 10, 2023

The Raven

 

(The black bird is a demon from the night's Plutonian shore.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 5 a.m. and drank a cup of instant coffee. Then I read the headlines on my smartphone while taking a nasty shit. A pastor from a small town in Alabama liked to dress up as a woman during his free time. His name was Bubba Copeland, and he made the mistake of posting the images on the internet. Needless to say, it wasn’t long before a local news site revealed the guy’s secret to the entire world. Sadly, Bubba became so distressed that he blew his brains out with a handgun. He left behind a wife and kids.

Although I consider myself a Christian, I don’t wag my finger in the face of others when it comes to sexual stuff. Why? I have my own sexual problems. Now that the Dragon Lady has packed her bags and left, I will spend the rest of my time on earth living like a tired old eunuch. In fact, the only pleasure I get is watching porn from the 80s. Therefore, my tolerance toward perversion boils down to rocks and glass houses.

I prepared bacon and hash browns for Rice-Boy Larry. He kept blowing his nose and hacking his lungs up as he sat at the kitchen table.

He said, “I don’t think I can go to school today.”

I nodded. “You sound terrible.”

“Maybe I’ll sleep and see the doctor again when I wake up.”

“Well, try to eat your food first.”

“My appetite is actually good. But I can’t seem to get rid of all of this snot.”

“The only cure is time. When you go to the pharmacy, purchase some Theraflu. That stuff is marvelous. It will knock you right on your ass.”

“I’ll give it a try.”

Later that morning, I caught the bus to work. Once again, the driver was a complete maniac. In fact, he almost passed my stop completely. He slammed on the brakes at the last minute and greeted me with the stink eye.

I eventually arrived at my office at 7:30 a.m. and called my mother using Facebook Messenger.

I said, “How’s tricks?”

She shrugged. “Not much is happening over here. How’s things with you?”

“Larry can’t seem to shake his cold. He keeps coughing and blowing his nose. I told him to see the doctor again.”

She greeted my suggestion with a dismissive wave of her hands. “What can the doctor do? He has a virus, and the only cure is time.”

“I told him that, too.”

She changed the subject. “Chicken Ken is really enjoying his job. They have him working outside in the drive thru. The customers give him a lot of tips.”

“Tips at Chick-Fil-A? This is surely another sign of the apocalypse.”

“Yes. Tips at Chick-Fil-A.” She paused for dramatic effect. “Every day, he walks home with fifty bucks in his pocket. And that’s on top of his salary. You really need to get over here as soon as possible so that we can all be a family again.”

I responded with a heavy sigh. “I’ve already told you a million times. I don’t think it would be fair to take Rice-Boy out of school right now. He only has two years to go before getting his high school diploma. When that happens, I’ll be running for the plane with money in my pockets.”

“OK. No need to bite my head off. It was only a suggestion.”

My day at work was the same old, same old. I’m currently reading The Raven with my high school class. I love that poem with all my heart, but they aren’t the biggest fans of Edgar Allan Poe. They find his writing style a tad dreary. Oh well. To each their own.

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