Thursday, May 31, 2007


My Army buddy walks into work for the first time in a week, no doubt to get his last check.

"Where the fuck you been? I thought you were working your last two weeks."

"Dude, I got drunk on Saturday night, and woke up in Philadelphia. I don't know how I got there, or why I was there."

"You get locked up?"

"I don't think so, but there may be legal repercussions for something from that night."

"What'd you do?"

"Don't know. Can't remember. All I know is my parents threw me the fuck out of the house, and I been living with my buddy, working with him and shit. I really gotta stop drinking, because I get so fucking belligerent. I think I told them to fuck off, and that's when they told me to not come back."


"Yea. But hey man, I got your number, I'll give you a ring sometime soon."

"Yea dude. Give me a call when you get your shit together."

Later on, I will bullshit for 20 minutes with two guys who build ponds that I know pretty well. One tells me how he very nearly spent 20 years in Riker's Island for cocaine possesion, but got off on a technicality, and the other will tell me about the time he got an in house sentence in jail, and then, when he appeared before a judge, the judge tried to get him to pay money to the court.

"I said, I been locked up for two months, I ain't got any money. He told me, "There's an ATM out there, go use it". So they put two guards behind me, but they stop in the hallway and aren't really paying attention, so I just kept walking... right out the door. They caught me, but it took the bastards two years."

He crushes his KOOL out on the ground, and then gets back in the truck. If you're a felon, building ponds is the way to go, evidently.

How did I get here?

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