Com-Castrated
Predator Press
[LOBO]
One of the casualties of trying to pay for my car was my cable television.
-Between renting the equipment and blah blah services, I cut my bill by ninety dollars.
Still it was rough; pulling those cables out this morning was a very painful experience, analogous almost to euthanizing a pet.
"So why are you working here?" I ask Barbarossa as we stand in the cafeteria chow line. Friday chow has a Mexican food theme, and it's the only day of the week I may deign to eat there.
And the only lunchtime I see Barbarossa, now a non-smoker.
"My last boss was a racist," he replies.
The lady behind the counter 'wraps up' her last customer and turns to me. "What can I get you?"
I manage a smile, despite the fact that I don't have cable. "I would like the mega nachos with everything -including jalapenos- but without beans." Well rehearsed and recited, my thoughts never left my dearly departed cable TV.
-But I decided to be strong.
"A racist?" I asked Barbarossa. "What happened?"
Barbarossa, next in line, stares at the menu, jaw agape. "He found a half a joint in my F-16. And then he had me take a piss test."
"Did you want jalapenos?" asked the lady behind the counter.
"Yes please," I nod politely.
"So," I pause, "where did the racism come in?"
Barbarossa, still reading a menu that said, "Nachos or MEGA Nachos," scratched his beard in thought.
"I think he was like ... Ukrainian or something," he replied.
The lady making my nachos dips the big spoon into a big, blacked pot.
"You said extra beans, right?"
[LOBO]
One of the casualties of trying to pay for my car was my cable television.
-Between renting the equipment and blah blah services, I cut my bill by ninety dollars.
Still it was rough; pulling those cables out this morning was a very painful experience, analogous almost to euthanizing a pet.
"So why are you working here?" I ask Barbarossa as we stand in the cafeteria chow line. Friday chow has a Mexican food theme, and it's the only day of the week I may deign to eat there.
And the only lunchtime I see Barbarossa, now a non-smoker.
"My last boss was a racist," he replies.
The lady behind the counter 'wraps up' her last customer and turns to me. "What can I get you?"
I manage a smile, despite the fact that I don't have cable. "I would like the mega nachos with everything -including jalapenos- but without beans." Well rehearsed and recited, my thoughts never left my dearly departed cable TV.
-But I decided to be strong.
"A racist?" I asked Barbarossa. "What happened?"
Barbarossa, next in line, stares at the menu, jaw agape. "He found a half a joint in my F-16. And then he had me take a piss test."
"Did you want jalapenos?" asked the lady behind the counter.
"So," I pause, "where did the racism come in?"
Barbarossa, still reading a menu that said, "Nachos or MEGA Nachos," scratched his beard in thought.
"I think he was like ... Ukrainian or something," he replied.
The lady making my nachos dips the big spoon into a big, blacked pot.
"You said extra beans, right?"
Comments