the events of wednesday

The Events of Wednesday

As soon as I arrived at work Wednesday morning I was fired for "not fitting in" and then excused with a couple of days extra pay. On the way back home my mind raced through the entire conversation over and over again, and I had many emotions ranging from anger and insult to relief. Sure, my former boss, Paul Ramsey had insulted me in all sorts of ways during our talk, but I already knew he was a piece of shit, and that I was not even good at selling Persian rugs. So why did this upset me? Furthermore I felt relieved that I was no longer married to this completely miserable job. It was all I could to just to convince myself to tolerate the hours I spent there. Then while riding my bike across town from King Soopers grocery store that morning, my thoughts still reeling about what to do, I took a spill in the middle of the road, and hit the pavement pretty hard. Groceries spilled out of my backpack in the middle of Speer Boulevard in front of the Denver Diner, and I happened to see my bananas squashed indifferently by a passing car. After a moment of shock I jumping up to get out of the way, and was pleased to realize I had not hit my head (wearing a bicycle helmet is fucking gay). I also discovered that my clothes were all ripped up and covered in a conspicuous amount of blood, presumably because I slid about six inches on the pavement. I lit a cigarette, tried to figure out if my arm was broken, and then called a taxi. "Take me to the Emergency Room." No big deal.
Luckily for me, I was distracted from my troubles for a couple of hours by the really entertaining scenes of suffering I found in the ER. I totally forgot about being fired and financially dicked over and everything. Amongst the general din and mayhem of the ER there was one gentleman tied down to a bed just a few feet from me who was raving drunk and screaming profanities and sobbing and apologizing and telling the nurses over and over again that he needed to pee. I had to laugh out loud when one answered, "You're peeing right now." This reminded me of my friend back home who's catch phrase of sorts was to respond to a query about the bathroom with the simple factual declaration that, "I'm peein' now." I dug out my cell phone and tried calling him, but there was no answer so I hung up and speed dialed an escort service who's number I found in the back of the Westward with the words "CINDY, babe with tight ass, luscious dick." I explained that my name is Paul Ramsey, and that I was greatly looking forward to shitting on her tits this evening, then I gave the bastard's address. "I keep a spare key under the yard jockey (which I happen to know he does). Let yourself in and wait for me to get home. Don't be late either or I'll strangle you with an electric cord you nasty fucking sack of aids!" Then my doctor arrived and came behind the curtain with me, so I politely excused myself from the call to pay attention.
After being x-rayed and rejecting the proposed sling (almost as gay as wearing a helmet), I was discharged and went on my merry way, walking back across town in my shredded bloody trousers, somehow imagining that I looked pretty cool with my underwear showing. I happened to pass by the exact spot where I wrecked and looked at the sad debris of my groceries, now scooted onto the edge of the road. A box of cheese-its was still somewhat intact but not really worth salvaging. My mood blackened. I became extremely frustrated and angry about basically everything in the universe, especially the physical pain and the spilled groceries and what my former boss said to me that morning.
June 6, 2008 / Denver