There's No Place Like Home For the Holidays.
For some reason, the fulfillment
department manager from my last job
is visiting up here for the Christmas
holidays. I am preparing to leave the store
, she collar
s me and wrings a long soul kiss
out of me. Iw
, what about my breath
is with her, and submits to a frigid
"happy holidays" kiss
, but there is no tongue forthcoming
from her. Thank God
I am not a crook.
Either I am just out prowl
ing, or I have a legitimate reason for breaking
into the house of the Polish family up the block. Too bad I don't remember. I can't find whatever has drawn me in here, and I am trapped in the kitchen
when the father
rounds the corner, holding a shotgun
. I reach for the sky
. In what seems like an hours-long sequence, I eventually persuade him that I meant no harm, I was looking for a mis-delivered Xmas
gift, a breaking-and-entering record
is going to needlessly screw up my whole life... He lets me go, to philosophize
with one of the neighborhood kids. My parents don't even have to know.
Slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.
In a penniless back alley
production of Romeo and Juliet
, I fall through the roof and have to recite my part of the "Wherefore art thou, Romeo" dialogue
with a mouthful
of shards of very thin glass mirror
. Spitting it out, careful not to cut my lips
on the way out, there is one piece that doesn't fit out my mouth! How did it get in there? I start to choke
(I was probably snoring
), and wake. It's 2 minutes to when my alarm normally alarms.