White Dwarf | 7. The Dog Lady
I sat on the safe soaking up the warm air blasting out of the vent above me. Daryl and Daryl violently shoved open the front door on his way out to tend to some maggots.
Ted watched him nostalgically, “He’s gonna make a great son-in-law. Damn good kid there.”
I nodded silently, realizing the responses erupting in my mind would be far too much for the sarcasm translator. I only hoped the long-term exposure to gasoline would sterilize Daryl and Daryl.
“So, anyhow, I gotta go for trainin’ all next week at the National Guard…”
I turned my attention to the mole, half-wondering if Ted had ever tried to communicate with it, “Oh yeah? What kind of training?”
“Special combat trainin’. They put us in an air-tight room and flood it with gas while we wear our gas masks so we know how to do that stuff. That kinda thing.”
I glanced down at Ted’s Aluminum Can Jew Box and chuckled. I wondered how well he got along with the people running this gas chamber.
“Anyhow, I was wonderin’ if you could cover the day shift for me next week. You’d have to work some night shifts too, since we’re short on help.”
Gee, I wonder why that is, you idiot.
I couldn’t think of anything more terrible—working five days in a row with Daryl and Daryl. I would have to be at the station at six in the morning, plus two or three night shifts… my body ached just thinking about it. On the other hand, I would finally get to meet Lee and I doubted this offer was so much a request as a subtle order. If I declined, Ted would most likely fire me.
“Yeah, I can do that.” I made no attempt to sound happy about it.
All through the week, Josh pleaded with me to at least work three doubles—he couldn’t bear the thought of having to work with Daryl and Daryl. My constant reminders that I would have to work with Daryl and Daryl five days in a row didn’t seem to lessen his angst. I couldn’t really blame him. I wasn’t too excited about the prospect of Daryl and Daryl working on the night shift either. It was bad for business… at least the drug business. If I wanted to keep Josh employed at the station and keep his steady supply of hallucinogens along with the cute girls looking for them – as well as preserve my own upcoming sales venture—I would have to keep Daryl and Daryl out of our turf. For the greater night shift good, I decided to work double shifts all week. Josh rewarded me with ten free hits of blotter which I consumed over the weekend.
My first morning with Daryl and Daryl got off to a very rough start. I had spent the day before enjoying several bizarre LSD experiences, culminating in an hour-long self-hypnosis session of staring in the mirror until my face bubbled and turned brown, and then sprouted hair. I passed out in my bed at four in the morning and only heard the alarm after it had been blaring for an hour, finally awaking just around the time I was supposed to be arriving at the station. Then I had to do all of the cars during the morning rush while Daryl and Daryl sweated over the previous day’s books.
I couldn’t tell if Daryl and Daryl was upset about my tardiness. He was completely silent all morning, as was his wont.
The day shift was completely different from the night shift. We only had half the amount of business and they were mostly elderly people, housewives and Gladstone Plumbing vans. I overheard several customers complaining to Daryl and Daryl about the cluster of kids they’d seen hanging out at the station on various nights. I was insanely curious about the specifics, but never managed to work myself into a position to hear any significant details.
Once the morning rush was over, we sat around for hours listening to Ted’s favorite talk radio station. There was nothing to break the monotony. No cute girls looking for acid, no deluding ourselves into thinking we were manipulating time by moving the clock hands forward, and not a single visit to the back room. It was just me with my thoughts and Daryl and Daryl with his low-frequency mental hum..
I felt a mixture of nervousness and relief when I saw Lee’s BMW pull into the gravel lot. By all accounts, he was a staunch Republican and had little tolerance for those who dwelt on the outer perimeter of society. From all that Ted had described, I almost expected to be relieved of my duties upon sight.
I watched as he opened the trunk of his car and collected the various forms and bank bags that were tucked underneath his golf clubs. He was shorter than I expected, much shorter than me, and had blue eyes. He looked younger than forty-three, though I eventually noticed his blonde hair was peppered with grey.
“Afternoon…” Lee smiled, pleasantly.
I nodded back, “Hey.”
Daryl and Daryl forced a wisp of air from his lungs, causing his vocal chords to rattle off something that resembled a distorted “Hello.”
Lee held his hand out to me, “I’m Lee.”
I shook firmly, “Darren. Nice to meet you.”
Lee turned to Daryl and Daryl, “How’s business today?”
Daryl and Daryl responded with a mumble that sounded like, “ahhh eye.”
Lee glanced at me with a half-grin and I shook my head in response. This was encouraging – a private moment with the owner at the expense of Daryl and Daryl. Lee just told me, without speaking a word, that he knew I was with it enough to recognize that Daryl and Daryl was deeply disturbed. I had an ally.
A customer pulled in and I was extra careful to smile and be courteous to her. I did both her front and rear windshields and even offered to check her oil. I also hoped the shock of actually getting good service would induce some sort of cardio-pulmonary episode once she left.
When I returned to the office, I was shocked to find Daryl and Daryl engaged in a dialogue that appeared to surpass the eloquence of a chimpanzee.
“We been gettin’ a lot a complaints about drugs on the night shift.”
My rectum tightened and a pang of foreboding shot through my stomach. I looked away, expecting Lee to shred me right then and there.
“They always say that, Daryl. Ted always says that. The police are right behind us and they buy gas here two or three times a night. Tell these old women to go gossip to their sewing circle.”
My eyes widened. This was incredible.
A few minutes later, Daryl and Daryl stomped out to start another car. It wasn’t the same when he didn’t yell out, “Maggots!” in his normal fit of rage.
Lee’s eyes twinkled as he coolly and expertly punched numbers into the adding machine and wrote results down in his white ruled accounting sheet.
“The old man was a little more uptight about that stuff,” Lee confided in me, “but he’s doing less and less these days—getting ready for retirement. I know what goes on here at night. I know why you guys do three times as much business. As long as the place doesn’t get a bad reputation… just keep bringing in business.”
I was flabbergasted. Was this a trap? I couldn’t think of a direct response, so I clumsily changed the subject in a desperate attempt to not confess anything incriminating.
“How are the books working out? Ted seems to think we’re bleeding money, but I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Ted’s an idiot.”
I was unable to control my laughter.
“He’s more of a pain in the ass than he’s worth. I’m not sure how much longer he’s going to be here but I’m certain Daryl isn’t going to take his place.”
I felt like I had been inflated with helium—like I could float away into the sky and I wasn’t even stoned. I sat in shock for the remainder of Lee’s visit, mulling over the implications: Josh and I were more important to Lee than Ted and Daryl and Daryl. Suddenly, there seemed to be some sort of weird cosmic force at work.
Lee spent an hour or so doing the accounting before tossing his paperwork and bags stuffed with cash into the trunk of his BMW. I sat in Daryl and Daryl’s chair, giddy with my newly-discovered powers, while Daryl and Daryl sat in Ted’s chair staring blankly out the window.
Our meditative interlude was interrupted by a rather odd looking woman. She appeared to be in her forties, had long, stringy brown hair striped with gray and was shaped strikingly like a weeble toy. Slowly, she got out of her blue Pinto and wobbled inside. I was immediately struck by her nonsensical grin. Her voice was loud and cheerful, “Do you have a phone I can use?”
Daryl and Daryl stared out the front window and I could almost hear a rush of air as it was sucked into the vacuum of his skull.
“We only have that pay phone on the well right next to you.”
The woman turned around, startled, “I see.”
She fished some change out of her tight jeans pocket and dumped it into the black payphone. She punched in seven digits and paused.
“Uh yes. I was calling to file a report on a stray dog.”
I watched in fascination. Entertainment was hard to come by on the day shift.
“Well, he was in the southbound lane on nine highway. I would suggest sending a patrol car to Parkville. At his current velocity, I would think he would reach the city limits within ten minutes or so.”
The road to Parkville consisted of many curves, lights, stop signs and left turns. How she surmised the dog would end up in Parkville was something I could probably spend an entire year trying to figure out.
“OK. Thank you.”
The woman hung up the phone and stood there in the doorway grinning, seemingly deep in thought. After a minute or two, she finally shook her head, grunted and went back to her Pinto. I watched her pull onto nine highway and head south – no doubt to witness the apprehension of this criminal dog.
I chuckled quietly and glanced over at Daryl and Daryl to see if his brain was still seizing or if the oddity of our visitor had penetrated some shred of consciousness buried in the murky depths of his mind and dredged up some emotion at least vaguely resembling amusement. He continued staring out the window, completely devoid of any discernable emotion.
I wondered if forcefully applying a two by four to the side of his head would elicit any response from him. I doubted it. I relished the irony—I had seen more “normal” behavior from people under the influence of LSD than I had from Daryl and Daryl.
* * *
A few weeks later, I had agreed to take Travis out job-hunting while his Colt was in the shop with transmission problems. In exchange for driving him around, he offered to buy me dinner at Dairy Queen.
I took him to the airport, a nursing home and a few warehouses. Our last stop was a hotel where he wanted to apply for a room service position. I waited in the car and smoked a joint while he was inside filling out the application. After about thirty minutes, he emerged through the front door, wearing his white dress shirt, black tie and slacks and blue high-top sneakers. Two female airline attendants passed him on their way in. I noticed them look at him with amusement and giggle between themselves. Travis lumbered over to my car and got in, causing the passenger side to sink significantly.
My eye gleamed with mischievousness, “Dude, did you see those two chicks?”
“Oh yeah!”
Travis’ eyes lit up and I could see the drool pooling in his mouth, ready to dribble down his chin.
“Did you see what that one had in her bag?”
“What?” He turned quickly to look, but they had already entered the building.
“A dildo!”
“No shit?!”
“I’m serious. I saw them watching you as they went inside too. They were nodding and nudging each other, dude. They thought you were hot!”
Travis started digging his right little finger into his scrotum. He always did that when he became sexually excited.
“You’re gonna regret it the rest of your life if you don’t get your butt in there and ask them out.”
“Which one?!”
“Fuck it, man. Ask them both. I can tell they were wild. They’d probably do a threesome with you.”
“Holy shit!”
Travis flung open the car door and bounced back inside the hotel. He was only gone five minutes before returning. His pallor had given away to a deep, sweaty red. He glistened like a red sausage, sweating as it cooked.
“Fucker.”
I giggled, “What? What did they say?”
His tone was one of utter defeat, “Nothing. Just drive to Dairy Queen.”
We went inside Dairy Queen and placed orders totaling nearly eight dollars. Travis pulled an old sock – a long tube sock with red stripes at the top – from his pocket. The bottom was nearly black with dirt and the entire thing was a stiffened cast of his foot and calf. I could smell it from several feet away. He dumped a pile of pennies, nickels, dimes and a few quarters from the sock onto the counter.
I laughed uncontrollably as the cashier watched in disbelief. An elderly couple behind us turned and left.
Travis turned around, confused, “What are you laughing about?”
“Dude, what are you doing throwing that dirty-assed sock on the counter? People get food there!”
“It’s an old head trick, man!” It was a phrase Travis picked up from Bunt, meaning it was common practice for old hippie stoners to carry around change in a dirty sock.
Travis counted out the exact change for the bill, using as many of the small coins as he could before resorting to using two quarters to complete the payment.
We took our food and, as we were returning to the car, I noticed an oddly familiar woman standing at the exit on the other side of the building. She was looking out across the highway, her arms folded disapprovingly and a stupid grin on her face. The weeble shape of her body made her instantly recognizable—it was the Dog Lady! What was she doing?
I saw a small dog wandering around on the paved shoulder across the road. The woman was studying it intently, but not calling to it or anything—just standing there staring at it like an idiot. I watched as a car approached from the distance. I cringed. The dog sniffed around the shoulder a few seconds and then wandered out into the road, just as the car reached the same spot.
The car continued on its way while the Dog Lady looked on, still smiling. She shook her head as the lifeless body of the dog rolled in the direction the car was traveling and then finally stopped, limp on the highway. The Dog Lady stood there several minutes without moving.
My mind reeled and I shivered. I prodded Travis to get in the car and sped away from that Grim Reaper of dogs as fast as I could, noting that the world I experienced on drugs was becoming increasingly more sane than the one I experienced while sober.
I sat on the safe soaking up the warm air blasting out of the vent above me. Daryl and Daryl violently shoved open the front door on his way out to tend to some maggots.
Ted watched him nostalgically, “He’s gonna make a great son-in-law. Damn good kid there.”
I nodded silently, realizing the responses erupting in my mind would be far too much for the sarcasm translator. I only hoped the long-term exposure to gasoline would sterilize Daryl and Daryl.
“So, anyhow, I gotta go for trainin’ all next week at the National Guard…”
I turned my attention to the mole, half-wondering if Ted had ever tried to communicate with it, “Oh yeah? What kind of training?”
“Special combat trainin’. They put us in an air-tight room and flood it with gas while we wear our gas masks so we know how to do that stuff. That kinda thing.”
I glanced down at Ted’s Aluminum Can Jew Box and chuckled. I wondered how well he got along with the people running this gas chamber.
“Anyhow, I was wonderin’ if you could cover the day shift for me next week. You’d have to work some night shifts too, since we’re short on help.”
Gee, I wonder why that is, you idiot.
I couldn’t think of anything more terrible—working five days in a row with Daryl and Daryl. I would have to be at the station at six in the morning, plus two or three night shifts… my body ached just thinking about it. On the other hand, I would finally get to meet Lee and I doubted this offer was so much a request as a subtle order. If I declined, Ted would most likely fire me.
“Yeah, I can do that.” I made no attempt to sound happy about it.
All through the week, Josh pleaded with me to at least work three doubles—he couldn’t bear the thought of having to work with Daryl and Daryl. My constant reminders that I would have to work with Daryl and Daryl five days in a row didn’t seem to lessen his angst. I couldn’t really blame him. I wasn’t too excited about the prospect of Daryl and Daryl working on the night shift either. It was bad for business… at least the drug business. If I wanted to keep Josh employed at the station and keep his steady supply of hallucinogens along with the cute girls looking for them – as well as preserve my own upcoming sales venture—I would have to keep Daryl and Daryl out of our turf. For the greater night shift good, I decided to work double shifts all week. Josh rewarded me with ten free hits of blotter which I consumed over the weekend.
My first morning with Daryl and Daryl got off to a very rough start. I had spent the day before enjoying several bizarre LSD experiences, culminating in an hour-long self-hypnosis session of staring in the mirror until my face bubbled and turned brown, and then sprouted hair. I passed out in my bed at four in the morning and only heard the alarm after it had been blaring for an hour, finally awaking just around the time I was supposed to be arriving at the station. Then I had to do all of the cars during the morning rush while Daryl and Daryl sweated over the previous day’s books.
I couldn’t tell if Daryl and Daryl was upset about my tardiness. He was completely silent all morning, as was his wont.
The day shift was completely different from the night shift. We only had half the amount of business and they were mostly elderly people, housewives and Gladstone Plumbing vans. I overheard several customers complaining to Daryl and Daryl about the cluster of kids they’d seen hanging out at the station on various nights. I was insanely curious about the specifics, but never managed to work myself into a position to hear any significant details.
Once the morning rush was over, we sat around for hours listening to Ted’s favorite talk radio station. There was nothing to break the monotony. No cute girls looking for acid, no deluding ourselves into thinking we were manipulating time by moving the clock hands forward, and not a single visit to the back room. It was just me with my thoughts and Daryl and Daryl with his low-frequency mental hum..
I felt a mixture of nervousness and relief when I saw Lee’s BMW pull into the gravel lot. By all accounts, he was a staunch Republican and had little tolerance for those who dwelt on the outer perimeter of society. From all that Ted had described, I almost expected to be relieved of my duties upon sight.
I watched as he opened the trunk of his car and collected the various forms and bank bags that were tucked underneath his golf clubs. He was shorter than I expected, much shorter than me, and had blue eyes. He looked younger than forty-three, though I eventually noticed his blonde hair was peppered with grey.
“Afternoon…” Lee smiled, pleasantly.
I nodded back, “Hey.”
Daryl and Daryl forced a wisp of air from his lungs, causing his vocal chords to rattle off something that resembled a distorted “Hello.”
Lee held his hand out to me, “I’m Lee.”
I shook firmly, “Darren. Nice to meet you.”
Lee turned to Daryl and Daryl, “How’s business today?”
Daryl and Daryl responded with a mumble that sounded like, “ahhh eye.”
Lee glanced at me with a half-grin and I shook my head in response. This was encouraging – a private moment with the owner at the expense of Daryl and Daryl. Lee just told me, without speaking a word, that he knew I was with it enough to recognize that Daryl and Daryl was deeply disturbed. I had an ally.
A customer pulled in and I was extra careful to smile and be courteous to her. I did both her front and rear windshields and even offered to check her oil. I also hoped the shock of actually getting good service would induce some sort of cardio-pulmonary episode once she left.
When I returned to the office, I was shocked to find Daryl and Daryl engaged in a dialogue that appeared to surpass the eloquence of a chimpanzee.
“We been gettin’ a lot a complaints about drugs on the night shift.”
My rectum tightened and a pang of foreboding shot through my stomach. I looked away, expecting Lee to shred me right then and there.
“They always say that, Daryl. Ted always says that. The police are right behind us and they buy gas here two or three times a night. Tell these old women to go gossip to their sewing circle.”
My eyes widened. This was incredible.
A few minutes later, Daryl and Daryl stomped out to start another car. It wasn’t the same when he didn’t yell out, “Maggots!” in his normal fit of rage.
Lee’s eyes twinkled as he coolly and expertly punched numbers into the adding machine and wrote results down in his white ruled accounting sheet.
“The old man was a little more uptight about that stuff,” Lee confided in me, “but he’s doing less and less these days—getting ready for retirement. I know what goes on here at night. I know why you guys do three times as much business. As long as the place doesn’t get a bad reputation… just keep bringing in business.”
I was flabbergasted. Was this a trap? I couldn’t think of a direct response, so I clumsily changed the subject in a desperate attempt to not confess anything incriminating.
“How are the books working out? Ted seems to think we’re bleeding money, but I don’t see how that’s possible.”
“Ted’s an idiot.”
I was unable to control my laughter.
“He’s more of a pain in the ass than he’s worth. I’m not sure how much longer he’s going to be here but I’m certain Daryl isn’t going to take his place.”
I felt like I had been inflated with helium—like I could float away into the sky and I wasn’t even stoned. I sat in shock for the remainder of Lee’s visit, mulling over the implications: Josh and I were more important to Lee than Ted and Daryl and Daryl. Suddenly, there seemed to be some sort of weird cosmic force at work.
Lee spent an hour or so doing the accounting before tossing his paperwork and bags stuffed with cash into the trunk of his BMW. I sat in Daryl and Daryl’s chair, giddy with my newly-discovered powers, while Daryl and Daryl sat in Ted’s chair staring blankly out the window.
Our meditative interlude was interrupted by a rather odd looking woman. She appeared to be in her forties, had long, stringy brown hair striped with gray and was shaped strikingly like a weeble toy. Slowly, she got out of her blue Pinto and wobbled inside. I was immediately struck by her nonsensical grin. Her voice was loud and cheerful, “Do you have a phone I can use?”
Daryl and Daryl stared out the front window and I could almost hear a rush of air as it was sucked into the vacuum of his skull.
“We only have that pay phone on the well right next to you.”
The woman turned around, startled, “I see.”
She fished some change out of her tight jeans pocket and dumped it into the black payphone. She punched in seven digits and paused.
“Uh yes. I was calling to file a report on a stray dog.”
I watched in fascination. Entertainment was hard to come by on the day shift.
“Well, he was in the southbound lane on nine highway. I would suggest sending a patrol car to Parkville. At his current velocity, I would think he would reach the city limits within ten minutes or so.”
The road to Parkville consisted of many curves, lights, stop signs and left turns. How she surmised the dog would end up in Parkville was something I could probably spend an entire year trying to figure out.
“OK. Thank you.”
The woman hung up the phone and stood there in the doorway grinning, seemingly deep in thought. After a minute or two, she finally shook her head, grunted and went back to her Pinto. I watched her pull onto nine highway and head south – no doubt to witness the apprehension of this criminal dog.
I chuckled quietly and glanced over at Daryl and Daryl to see if his brain was still seizing or if the oddity of our visitor had penetrated some shred of consciousness buried in the murky depths of his mind and dredged up some emotion at least vaguely resembling amusement. He continued staring out the window, completely devoid of any discernable emotion.
I wondered if forcefully applying a two by four to the side of his head would elicit any response from him. I doubted it. I relished the irony—I had seen more “normal” behavior from people under the influence of LSD than I had from Daryl and Daryl.
❖
A few weeks later, I had agreed to take Travis out job-hunting while his Colt was in the shop with transmission problems. In exchange for driving him around, he offered to buy me dinner at Dairy Queen.
I took him to the airport, a nursing home and a few warehouses. Our last stop was a hotel where he wanted to apply for a room service position. I waited in the car and smoked a joint while he was inside filling out the application. After about thirty minutes, he emerged through the front door, wearing his white dress shirt, black tie and slacks and blue high-top sneakers. Two female airline attendants passed him on their way in. I noticed them look at him with amusement and giggle between themselves. Travis lumbered over to my car and got in, causing the passenger side to sink significantly.
My eye gleamed with mischievousness, “Dude, did you see those two chicks?”
“Oh yeah!”
Travis’ eyes lit up and I could see the drool pooling in his mouth, ready to dribble down his chin.
“Did you see what that one had in her bag?”
“What?” He turned quickly to look, but they had already entered the building.
“A dildo!”
“No shit?!”
“I’m serious. I saw them watching you as they went inside too. They were nodding and nudging each other, dude. They thought you were hot!”
Travis started digging his right little finger into his scrotum. He always did that when he became sexually excited.
“You’re gonna regret it the rest of your life if you don’t get your butt in there and ask them out.”
“Which one?!”
“Fuck it, man. Ask them both. I can tell they were wild. They’d probably do a threesome with you.”
“Holy shit!”
Travis flung open the car door and bounced back inside the hotel. He was only gone five minutes before returning. His pallor had given away to a deep, sweaty red. He glistened like a red sausage, sweating as it cooked.
“Fucker.”
I giggled, “What? What did they say?”
His tone was one of utter defeat, “Nothing. Just drive to Dairy Queen.”
We went inside Dairy Queen and placed orders totaling nearly eight dollars. Travis pulled an old sock – a long tube sock with red stripes at the top – from his pocket. The bottom was nearly black with dirt and the entire thing was a stiffened cast of his foot and calf. I could smell it from several feet away. He dumped a pile of pennies, nickels, dimes and a few quarters from the sock onto the counter.
I laughed uncontrollably as the cashier watched in disbelief. An elderly couple behind us turned and left.
Travis turned around, confused, “What are you laughing about?”
“Dude, what are you doing throwing that dirty-assed sock on the counter? People get food there!”
“It’s an old head trick, man!” It was a phrase Travis picked up from Bunt, meaning it was common practice for old hippie stoners to carry around change in a dirty sock.
Travis counted out the exact change for the bill, using as many of the small coins as he could before resorting to using two quarters to complete the payment.
We took our food and, as we were returning to the car, I noticed an oddly familiar woman standing at the exit on the other side of the building. She was looking out across the highway, her arms folded disapprovingly and a stupid grin on her face. The weeble shape of her body made her instantly recognizable—it was the Dog Lady! What was she doing?
I saw a small dog wandering around on the paved shoulder across the road. The woman was studying it intently, but not calling to it or anything—just standing there staring at it like an idiot. I watched as a car approached from the distance. I cringed. The dog sniffed around the shoulder a few seconds and then wandered out into the road, just as the car reached the same spot.
The car continued on its way while the Dog Lady looked on, still smiling. She shook her head as the lifeless body of the dog rolled in the direction the car was traveling and then finally stopped, limp on the highway. The Dog Lady stood there several minutes without moving.
My mind reeled and I shivered. I prodded Travis to get in the car and sped away from that Grim Reaper of dogs as fast as I could, noting that the world I experienced on drugs was becoming increasingly more sane than the one I experienced while sober.
hey man, your stories are great. I could read an entire book on your life, it’s really interesting… not to mention well written. keep it up!
Another great story. I’ll continue to visit daily checking for updates!
I just finished reading all the stories up through this one, The Dog Lady, and I’ve really enjoyed them. Dude, what happened with Travis and the two women?! I know he told you so don’t hold out! *haha* Keep it up. You’ve got something good going.
This reads like a novel. Truely a far cry from the other FA sites. Well done.
Clarifications by Devil Monkey…
These stories are true. If they resemble “off the shelf sterotypes” then you might consider that those stereotypes are accurate.
I read each and every one of these comments and appreciate them greatly. My job and writing these stories take a great deal ot of time, so I can’t answer them individually. Just know I do appreciate them and they motivate me to continue and to improve.
Thanks to everyone who has posted!
-DM
If you ever write a book, please make sure to let us know so I can preorder mine.
I think you may be the next Hunter S Thompson.
How old are you?
Darren, Devil Monkey is hands down the best thing I have ever read online. Your stories hit a chord with me and I find myself checking the site daily for new entries.
Props for updating so frequently, and I’m sure we’ll see your name in print very soon.
This was the best one yet, I loved the part where Lee busted you, but didn’t care because of the profits you bring in. I’ve seen it happen in jobs before, and had a hunch that he wouldn’t care.
Don’t forget to save some for a book…it’d def be a kickass read. Keep it up.
All of your stories are fascinating. They present all of the characters as imperfect people, but some have redeeming qualities. Although it isn’t very abnormal for this kind of writing by drug users, it still is interesting that almost all people who don’t use drugs are generally either assholes or idiots. The only non-drug user who is sane and intelligent is Lee, and he’s completely (tacitly) tolerant of the drug users.
I usually like finding something good that’s still in the making, and watching it grow, but another part of me is thoroughly disappointed that I have to wait for the next installment. Can I get updates emailed directly to me?
great fucking shit. keep it up bro.
“A customer pulled in and I was extra careful to smile and be courteous to her. I did both her front and rear windshields and even offered to check her oil. I also hoped the shock of actually getting good service would induce some sort of cardio-pulmonary episode once she left.”
This is the best line, besides “and I wasn’t even stoned”. Anyone who has worked a customer job or smoked a joint can totally relate to this site–I really enjoy it. To echo what several others have said: I want to know when you’re writing a book.
Mutha Fuckin ass juice Whore! i would make sure that Cunting dog reaper slut had her face wiped in that stray dogs entrails i dont give a sweet Fuck if your a “dog person” or not i wanna Fuck her UP! goddamned bitch! Please if anyone knows this Dog reaper bitch in this story i will personally let you fuck my seventeen year old sister if you can give me proof you beat the ever lovin shit out of that Dog murdering Sumbitch. holy shit i never wanted to hold someones face to a high revved motorcycle tire more than that fucked up devil slut (whew, quiet the rage)… FUCK!