Yesterday, I woke up at 5 p.m. after only getting
three hours of sleep. It’s tough living the life of a vampire. Trust me. It ain’t
for pussies. I’m pushing sixty, and surviving on catnaps is driving this poor
old man straight into the ground.
To make matters worse, Mom caught my cold. It’s
affecting her mood, and these days she wanders through the house wheezing and
hacking her lungs out.
Anyway, she got very angry at Nurse Ken.
Mom said, “That boy is a lazy son of a bitch.”
I said, “What the fuck happened?”
“I called him and asked if he would cook the
porkchops. But he said that he’d rather go buy a sandwich at Subway. He’ll do
anything to avoid work. Plus he just doesn’t give a shit about anybody else.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
So I dialed his number using my smartphone, and he
picked up after the third ring.
I said, “Ken, you have to come downstairs and cook
these pork chops. You pissed off your granny. In fact, she might stick a fork
in your eye.”
“But I don’t know how to cook fucking pork chops.”
“It’s real fucking simple. You turn the oven to 375
degrees, and then you cook the meat for about an hour.”
“So why don’t you fucking do it?”
“It wouldn’t have the same peaceful effects.” I paused
to increase the drama. “Come on down and make her happy. Be a sport, won’t you?”
And to his credit, he did what he was told.
Normally, Mom isn’t a bitch. But she gets a little ornery
when she’s under the weather. Yet I have to cut the old gal a little slack. In
two years, she’ll be eighty. I’m only fifty-six, and I’m falling apart both
mentally and physically. Hopefully, I’ll be fucking dead by the time I get to
her age.
At 6:30 p.m., I drove to church by my lonesome. My
sons are a couple of filthy pagans. However, I never twist their arms to join
me.
This new pastor I have is amazing. He talked about
some of the prophecies in the Book of Daniel, and then he brought the writings
of Josephus into the sermon. I found his entire presentation awe-inspiring. In
fact, I put eighty bucks into the collection plate. I’m going to donate one
thousand dollars a year to his church. He’s doing great stuff.
I went to work at 9 p.m. My partners in crime were
Jamaal and John the Dwarf. The foot traffic was slow but steady. I ended up
making $230 for the shift.
Jamaal is great. But he hates being a waiter, so he
gave me about eighty percent of the tables.
I said, “Jamaal, I feel pretty bad…like I’m doing you
a bad turn. How can you make any scratch if you won’t write tickets?”
He smiled and shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll
catch some tips tomorrow.”
At five in the morning, four of his friends walked
into the restaurant and squeezed into a booth.
I said, “Here’s a great chance for you to make some
money.”
He shook his head. “You go ahead and take them. I’m
cleaning the sink.”
They ended up tipping me twenty bucks.
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