Christmas Is Coming – part 6 – Copping “Bat Dope”

After 15 endless minutes – mostly spent trying to decide who in this crowd is going to rob me when I leave – I reach the Plexiglas wall at the front of the check-cashing place. I shove my paycheck, all two hundred and sixty five dollars of it, along with my Massachusetts driver’s license through the little scooped out divot carved into the counter. The stone faced, rail-thin and straight up tough-looking, black woman on the other side of the glass examines the check and then pushes my documents back to me, along with a ballpoint pen with an extra twelve inches of grey duct tape extending from the top of it. I sign my check, noticing the stream of heated air coming through the hole. It feels nice. The proprietor of this establishment must not feel compelled to provide heat to us – the animals – on the other side of the glass.

This is the 6th entry in a series. It stands alone or you can start from the beginning. Find part 1 here and part 5 (the previous entry) here.

Continue reading “Christmas Is Coming – part 6 – Copping “Bat Dope””

Christmas is Coming – Part 5

And with those words from my boss, “See you.” I’m done. My work responsibilities are over and time itself becomes something different. Time is a resource, something to be viewed dispassionately, to be used to solve my problem. That problem, as always, being how to get hard drugs into my body quickly.

This is the 5th entry in a series. Find part 1 here and part 4 (the previous entry) here.

Continue reading “Christmas is Coming – Part 5”

Priority: Magnum P.I.

This is not good. I’m fucked timing-wise and while I’d rather not I have no choice but to follow the 12-year-old kids’ instruction and “Take a walk!” for the 5th time this afternoon. I turn right and head downtown again, past the garbage strewn sculpture garden that occupies the vacant lot on 6th Street. I’m getting nervous that I’m not going to make it home in time to find out whether Magnum and Higgins make it out of the Cambodian jungle alive.

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This is not good. I’m fucked timing-wise and while I’d rather not I have no choice but to follow the 12-year-old kids’ instruction and “Take a walk!” for the 5th time this afternoon. I turn right and head downtown again, past the garbage strewn sculpture garden that occupies the vacant lot on 6th Street. I’m getting nervous that I’m not going to make it home in time to find out whether Magnum and Higgins make it out of the Cambodian jungle alive. Continue reading “Priority: Magnum P.I.”