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Date Posted: 16:50:08 05/29/02 Wed
Author: Porthos
Subject: I Called in Sick Today

I Called in Sick Today

“I’ve got a bad case of anti-social personality disorder,” I told him.
“Look Isaa…”
Click.
I just wasn’t in the mood to get fired.
So I took a walk. Kids outside were playing
cops and robbers, so I stepped in as a robber.
“You big jerk,” little Toby screamed through
his Niagara of tears, “I’m getting my mom!”
Who says the robbers can’t beat the shit out of the cops?
His brother stayed down on the sidewalk, blood filling
the cracks as he tinkered with his broken nose.

So I walked on, made it to the grocery store
on the corner. “I’ll take a hard pack of Turkish
Gold,” I said and the pimple faced clerk forked
over the beautiful white phalluses. I lit up right
there. “You can’t smoke in here, you have to take
that outside,” and so I blew a blimp of carcinogens in his face
and grabbed a five dollar bottle of wine on my way out.
“Get back here you bastard! I’m calling the cops!”
How original.

Continuing on down the sidewalk, I spotted a bicyclist
coming full speed. He was one of those guys that takes
biking seriously: spandex shorts, shaved legs, the whole bit.
I’ve always wanted to do this, and so I took one step closer
to self-actualization and stuck out my arm. The sun shone
down like the glowing face of the virgin mother as a crack
swam through the thick July air. The bike kept right on
going, a horse without a rider. “You sonofabitch!” but I
kept right on walking as he chased down his steed.

After all that wine there was no time for courtesy.
It just couldn’t be done, and so cars whizzed by like geese
honking angrily, cherub faces smiling like donuts
in surprise. My piss pooled in the street, a lake
at sunrise rippling golden. It was about this time
that my body became a kindergarten coloring book,
you know, when all us kids had to share a box
of crayons, and I got stuck with red and blue.
So the cruiser stops two feet away from me
and I figure hell, why not. I give it everything
I’ve got and the hood plays the song of rain
on a tin roof. That’s when they cuffed me,
and that’s how I came to live with Bob.

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