I shit my pants once - now, hear me out: I was eating Chinese, a greasy eggroll, so greasy I made a comment out loud about it. Against my better judgement I ate the thing anyway. Hours later, I left work not thinking about that fucking eggroll. I gambled and lost, as they say, and I began laughing hysterically because what else can you do with your pants full of shit and a 15 minute ride home?
"Oh, thank you God!" I breathed with deep gratitude and reverence. There were two cigarettes left in the pack instead of one.
If you’re reading this,
you think it’s about you.
It probably is.
Never read Bukowski before bed. You'll dream of shitty apartments, empty, rattling wine bottles, and scabby hookers. Then, mid dream, you'll realize you're sweating buckets between your ass cheeks.
Remember that time, about 15 years ago, when we were driving down some Texan backroad? It started with you wriggling against the seat but soon turned into a desperate scratching. "What the hell is wrong with you?" I shouted, "Fucking itching won't go away!" It took some moments, but then I remembered. Two days before, when we were in the shower, I shaved your ass-cheeks while you washed your face. 15 years later, and I'm still laughing.