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“All right, I’ll make sure she gets it.”
“OK, well, see that you do and tell her to call me.”
“Will do. Take care.”
“You too.”
The clerk came back to the counter and suggested that I open it to make sure it isn’t something gross like a dead rat or a bag of shit. I thought twice, opened it up and found a sloppy love letter and a CD of a girl playing American patriotic songs on the violin.
If somehow the world survives in spite of its continuation of economic cannibalism, of global empires expanding, of soldiers and civilians being maimed and killed in the process of imposed wars of “democratization;” if global warming is indeed the biggest and greatest liberal conspiracy, and capitalism learns to regulate and fix itself and I am still here in 20 years, it’s good to know that when I roll into a strip club, crippled, insane and covered in piss, that I will be greeted with the same amount of arrogance and hate; and I will be honored of being in the presence of the damned.
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