Fuck (Slight Return)

Fuck (Slight Return)

Wednesday
5:15AM - Wake up, feeling like utter dogfuck. Listen to the clock radio, on a station run by high school students a couple miles up the road. For a cheezoid 70s/80s station, they're actually kinda tolerable. Kinda.

6:00AM - Leave for my last day at work. Notice that one of the daytime headlights is on. The car is turned off. Huh? I'm barely able to function as a mammal at this point, let alone consider just what the fuck be gwine on down here.

6:25AM - Finally leave the Speedway station with my coffee, having waited at least 10, if not 15 minutes extra on a CUNT who can't run a cash register. Shoulda made my own coffee. I drive like a motherfuck to work.

6:58AM - Turn the key off. The car is still running. I take the key out of the ignition. IT'S STILL RUNNING. The dashboard lights are on. I get out of the car. The daytime headlight on the passenger side is on. The car dies after 30 seconds. I start the car back up. Take the key out. It stops running ten seconds later. All the lights are off. I begin a discussion with Gods I No Longer Believe In.

7:01AM - Clock in a minute late because everybody on third shift is in line clocking out.

7:05AM Tell my supervisors about the car. Start working.

8:40AM Go to break, run to the car. Get in. The dashboard lights are on. The car has been turned off for over an hour and a half. I ask Jesus what the fuck be gwine on here. No reply. Ask Buddha. No reply. Ask David Koresh. I get a slight burning sensation in my chest, but no reply. Ask Joe Pesci. He says "How the fuck should *I* know?"

8:50AM Tell the supervisor I hate to go out like this on my last day, but I need to leave early. He and the woman at HR are WONDERFUL to me, and thank me for at least giving them a days notice, which apparantly doesn't happen often with the asshole temps they get. No problems there. I call the temp agency to let them know what's going on. A bit colder, but no problems there either.

10:00AM Get home. Putz around for a while, trying to figure out what the fuck I'm going to do since I have so little goddamn money. I can afford an oil change, and I need one. but that has about zilch to do with the real fucking problem in the car

12 Noon - Go to the guys who worked on the water pump for an oil change. Explain the problem. But now there IS no problem. It's running fine (and has been the whole time when you're actually driving it) and it turned off properly and the lights aren't possessed. He thinks it's the alternator. I tell Jesus, Buddha, David Koresh, and Joe Pesci all to suck my cock. FUCK. Just what I needed. But he looks at it and sees no problem. Tells me to come back if I need to. We both figure I'll need to.

2:30PM Try to take a nap. I feel like warmed-over puppy poop. I thrash around for over an hour and don't really sleep.

5:30PM Show up to work. But several students don't. You know, the ones who owe me money. This problem has been chronic for a couple weeks. You expect this shit, but it's happening more now than it did back when I had twice as many students. I try not to think about it. Fail miserably.

9PM Call A. Find out she has a boyfriend. You've read that post already. Open a beer. Drink half of it and decide to go to sleep. I can't even function as a decent alcoholic tonight.

Thursday
7AM Wake up. Try to fall back to sleep. Fail. Think about what I'm going to do that day. Wish I had somebody to fuck.

8:15AM Finally get out of bed. Feel pretty good, probably becuase I finally SLEPT some. I write some bullshit posts here, rip some library CDs, and plot for the day. Think I'll go to Steak & Shake. See Amanda. I hope the car is OK.

10:45AM The car doesn't start. The passenger day light is on, probably has been half the night. But it wasn't when I GOT home, which suggests my car is possessed by Satan. Considering that the rotten motherfucker owes me money from that night I took him out and got him all liquored up and found him a couple whores, it wouldn't surprise me. Fucker. One of those bitches was MINE, but all he had to do was whip out that 17-inch slimy red cock and I was in a corner by myself spanking it the rest of the night. I need new friends.

10:50AM A very pretty (and married) lady in the neighborhood helps me jump start the car. I drive off to the shop wondering why the coolant light is flashing when it has plenty of coolant in it. You know, the problem that was FIXED a couple weeks ago. Oh, now the battery light is flashing too. And the ABS. The clock has just reset itself. And...something fucked-up be gwine down here.

11:00AM Get to the shop. Sit for a while while he looks at it. He finally tells me it's the alternator. I don't have the money for this shit. He offers to do the job for the price of the part alone ($160) which savea me about the same amount on labour. Which is pretty fucking nice of him. Of course, if I knew how to do this ahit myself and could get to a junkyard, I could probably do it for twenty bucks. But I'm fucked and about as mechanical as a retarded spider monkey on crack. There is a very high probability that I won't be driving far before the thing just shits on my head. I tell him I'm gonna have to think about it and I'll come back later, because I'm barely going to be able to pay rent and see my daughter this weekend. Rent is due in two days.

Noon-ish - Call Sheryl to let her know things might have to change for the weekend. She very kindly offers to meet me halfway, saving me part of the drive both ways. Which shows just how cool she is, and thank fuck I don't have to live out the kind of shit that I keep hearing from people about their relationship with ex-spouses. I'm pretty fuckin' lucky that way. I hope she feels even half as good about me. She rocks.

12:30PM Decide to just say "fuck it" and get the car worked on. Go cash my check from the temp agecny and go back to the shop. Sit in the waitng area and count my money. I'll need to come up with $100 in two days to be able to pay my rent. Come up with a list in my head of CDs to sell, a couple other options. It might just be doable. I have to pay it Saturday though, because I've learned that these people are NOT flexible, and the late fees are fucking wretched. None of my options are good, but I have a few. Decide to bypass those other four guys and pray to Joseph Smith. He says "I'm busy fucking my fifty-seven wives. Get back to me later." Rotten rat bastard.

3:00PM David come in and tells me that the new alternator is in. It held a charge for five minutes. There's another problem. I needed the new alternator, the old one is trashed. But the new one will be too in a short amount of time, because there's some kind of electrical issue. He starts checking out all the grounds, which are legion.

Somewhere around 3:30PM - After being in a haze for three hours, walking to KFC, walking around the blocks, looking at National Geographics, and generally just staring at the fucking wall, I go out to the garage. David is still fucking with the car, frustrated. He's really trying to do it right, and he's a hell of a nice guy. I've picked the right place to come to. I look in the back of the car and find my copy of The Real Frank Zappa book, which I'd been reading on lunch breaks at work.

I begin reading certain "key passages" (this fucking thing was my BIBLE for years) and realize just how much of my writing style I owe to Frank. His book is a fucking JOY to read. Over and over again. I've probably read it cover to cover nine or ten times, and in random pieces a total of fifty or sixty. But it's actually been a few years. Re-reading about The Stumbler, Studio Z, Caroline Cuntley, The Gathering Of the Ugly Jackets, and Ms. Name Omitted, I'm reminded of how much I fucking miss him. I try not to start crying. I fail. David's wife is at the desk twenty feet away. I try to act like I don't notice her looking at me.

4:30PM David runs out of ideas. Lights are coming on and off for no apparant reason. he's checked everything he can think of. "I'm up for a challenge, but this one has worn out its welcome." He calls another guy. I call the music store and get my 5:30 student moved to 6:30.

5:30PM Half an hour before they close, and half an hour before I need to leave, the other guy shows up. But he definitely seems on top of things. Unfortunately, he's not FAST about it.

6:08PM I leave. David's put a new battery in, my old one will sit on the charger overnight. I'll go back in the morning and start again. He's very friendly to me, tells me I can owe him the money, pay it back next week, which NEVER happens, though I do need to pay him the $160 for the alternator. I think part of why he's nice to me is that I've been there before and we get along. Part of it might also be that I sat there for FIVE AND A HALF FUCKING HOURS and didn't bitch about it once. So if anyone thinks I'm incapable of patience...go fuck yourself.

6:29PM Show up to teach. My last student (who, of course, is the one who owes me money) cancels. I ask Cthulhu for advice. He sends me dream visions of fish-headed beings swimming around a rusted out Saturn at the bottom of the South Pacific, my cold gutted carcass strung up over a fire being roasted for later dining by the Great Old Ones. I tell Cthulhu to go fuck himself. I need new gods.

8:30PM Call Sheryl to tell her I still plan on coming tomorrow and having Katie for two nights. Hopefully the car will be done by noon and I CAN do this.

9:00PM Open a beer. Put on Crosby/Nash's Wind On The Water. Start typing this bullshit. Now I sit here wondering how i'm gonna survive April, even though I haven't atually determined yet how I'm gonna survive this month, and it's over in two fucking days. Fact is, I'm barely even upset. Mostly numb. I haven't got a clue what the fuck to think. This time a year ago I was in Las Vegas thoroughly not enjoying myself. Tonight I sit here and think if I hsd the money I blew on questionable activities that night, I'd actually be sorta OK right now. In other words, I have no one to blame for this shit but myself. But I'm really sick of blaming myself too. Hell, it always works out somewhere in the end. And if it doesn't, what the fuck? After all...tomorrow is another day.

Love,
Dougie

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