Third Stage, My Ass

Third Stage, My Ass

Somebody kill me. There's a fucking Boston song lodged in my brain.

Threw money into the bank that still won't cover what I need it to. Drove down to the auto shop to give him ten bucks on what I owe him. Thank fuck I only owe him another $35 and he's willing to wait a while longer.

Then I drove to check on a job I'd applied for. No news there. I called all three offices of the temp agency right at 9:00 to be on their availability list, but nothing there either. i've not worked for them for almost three weeks now. And I'm going to be bleeding from the ass by May 1st, even if they find me something tomorrow. I've applied for at least 30 other jobs in the past couple weeks, and I'll be hitting the trail again in an hour or two. But I'm still fucked. The little bit of student money still owed me this week won't be near enough. If I even see that.

I tried to pull my mind from all this, and from the heavy disappointment of last night that nearly kept me in bed this morning. Onward, motherfucker. Fucking onward.

Towards Amanda.

"Hey babe!"

Fuuuuuuck. Just the sound of her voice...

"Coke, Sprite, or coffee?"

"Coffee."

"Five-way?"

"No, I'm going to do something really weird today and order something else."

I walked back to the back corner table where I usually sit. She came to me with coffee and water. And the smile. I can't say enough about the smile. Though you're probably saying "Yes you can, and we're sick of hearing about it, you fucking cheesehead."

Bite me. Her smile is where i want to die.

"I really liked that poem you gave me. Thank you very much."

One two three four five...

"Now you know how I feel."

She just smiled bigger. Looked away slightly. Hehe. Damn, this feels good.

"I only let a little bit out at a time, because I don't want to scare the shit out of you..."

A chuckle. "No, you don't."

"...but that's how you make me feel."

"You're so sweet."

Be still my beating...everything. Every fucking molecule was pounding.

I kept my eyes right at her. "And I'm sure you still need your space."

"I do. I'm trying to spend more time with my family."

"I understand. Absolutely."

"Been spending more time with my parents."

"I bet that's just what you need. Good for you. I totally understand."

Another smile. Another thank you. And on she went, back to work.

And that was about it. I wanted to find something else to say, something else to pry that letter-opener into her heart just a little bit further. But I didn't, and it's right. One step at a time, Doug. One step at a fucking time.

Got the portabello and swiss steakburger. Pretty fucking good. But I've had waaaaaay too much beef in the past week. Going totally veggie at least for the next three or four days. No more budget for eating anything not already in my cabinet anyway.

She's asked for the weekend off. I don't know when I'll see her next. But I'll be armed with something new. I don't know what yet. Got my ideas. If I could just get Tom Fucking Scholz and his fucking Velveeta anthems out of my skull, I might even come up with something good. I'm thinking I just might.

She ain't gonna forget this motherfucker. Nope.

Babe, tomorrow’s so far away. There’s something I just have to...AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! !!!!!! GET IT OUT! GET IT THE FUCK OUT OF MY SKULL! EVIL! EVILLLLLLLLLLLL!!!!

I hope you all had a happy Dead Jew Still In The Ground Day yesterday.

Love (and Velveeta),
Dougie