Friday, November 11, 2005

a cut above

reality is one of those moments when you really need a piece of scotch tape & goddammit the roll is empty & you fumble through desk drawers, ransacking your own house looking for any lousy transparent crap that's sticky on one side, but you slice your fingers on some old letter opener instead -- a dopey gift from some ex-girlfriend you never really cared about -- you never noticed it was so friggin sharp before & now you end up stomping down the hall to the bathroom leaving a trail of curses & blood, & you look in the mirror at some psycho with twitchy eyes & you feel another 6-hour standoff with police coming on.

luckily there's a pill for that. it's about the size of a slim jim & only about half as tasty. you tear into it, wolf it down like a berserk savage, then you find a band-aid, some duct tape that's not transparent but it's supposed to be able to fix anything, and some smooth old song from the 70's fills your once-disco brain as you straighten yuor tie, point at the mirror, give yourself your best Matt LeBlanc "how you doin?", have a nice generic brand breakfast & head off to work reborn again and again and again.

No comments: