Food Stamps

 

(I'm an official member of the working poor.)

Yesterday, I woke up at 7 p.m. and stumbled into the kitchen. Mail was waiting for me on the counter, and it was from the state government.

Mom was very excited. “Go ahead and open it. It looks like you qualified for your benefits.”

I said, “Calm down, old woman. There’s not a chance in hell that I’m getting food stamps.”

Well, I was wrong. I’m now receiving $200 a month to pay for my vittles. One of the envelopes even contained an EBT card. It looks just like a normal credit card. So now I have to find a place that will accept it. I guess I’ll try Walmart.

I know that some of you assholes will berate me for being a loser. But here are the facts. I’m an old dude with a full-time job. Plus everything I wrote on the application was 100 percent true. I showed them my bank account. I told them about my Hyundai Venue. And I explained that I’m currently living with family. So somebody in the office must have decided that I’m a poor elderly bastard who needs a little assistance. Which is true. I’m a broke dead dick.

God bless America, right?

I walked onto the patio to smoke a cigarette. Mom was out there drinking coffee.

I said, “Are you going to the doctor’s office tomorrow?”

“I don’t think I can.”

“Why? I’ll drive you.”

I have plenty of time this week because I don’t go to Waffle House until Thursday. Then I have to work five 10-hour shifts in a row. And let me tell you motherfuckers something. It ain’t an easy schedule for a guy who’s pushing sixty. Sometimes, I pray that God will kill me with a lightning bolt. But I do my best to keep a sunny attitude.

Anyway, Mom gave a strange reply. “I can’t go because the grass is too long. I have to make sure that your boys cut it.”

“That’s the dumbest shit I ever heard. Of course they’re gonna cut it.

Mom’s yard isn’t very big. In fact, an old geezer like me can do the job in about an hour. My two sons zip through it in no-time flat.

She said, “You don’t have to insult me.”

“I’m not insulting you. But what are your plans? Are you going to stare at the grass to stop it from growing?”

“Make sure you tell them that the job’s got to be done.”

I sighed heavily. “I will, for Christ’s sake. Just give it a rest.”

Then it was time to do my laundry. You should have seen the state of my apron. It was stained with grits and other various bits of food. I’m surprised that none of the customers complained. But it’s overnights at the Waffle House. They were probably too drunk to notice.

I have to be honest with you. Sometimes, I wear the same pair of pants for an entire week of overnight shifts. Plus I only have two work shirts. But at least I take a shower every day. So I guess that’s good enough.

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