Showdown at Fathead Corral

I woke up last night.

In the middle of the night, having to take a piss. I get up and my head is EIGHT sizes too big. I stagger to the wall. What the fuck? I have a fat head!! I push away from the wall to the edge of the bed, holding on. Then stand and stagger to the door. There is no way that I am going to make it down the hall like this. I dig through the garbage, pull out an empty can of Diet Coke and piss into that. Ahhhh.

I work my way back to bed and go to sleep. In the morning I feel fine. Well rested and awake. I look at the clock on the microwave. It's 9:00am. Oh well, I'm not making it to the Roach Motel today. I shed a tear. I sit down behind my computer and send an email to Dr. K.'s secretary, telling her that I will not be able to make it today. By not seeing her though, I leave myself open for the wrath of the FUCKERS!! I don't have a babysitter's note for this morning or this afternoon, and I have no excuse not to go to this mandatory meeting, but like I said, they can all suck cock in Hell for pennies on the dick.

There is another email there:

Subject: mri
it is normal. thanks for the effort.
Dr. A.

Isn't he wonderful. To keep me from worrying he emails me, the only way that he can get in touch with me to keep me from worrying. I love that man. I can't wait to see him tomorrow.

I hear the rumble of the janitor's, Nacho's cart rumble down the hall. He passes my door singing loudly and heads to the offending bathroom that the Mad Shitter has picked repeatedly as his victim. Nacho sings even louder. He is happy. The Mad Shitter has given him and me a break. I know he thinks that by giving me an indirect threat yesterday he solved his problem but sick people like the Mad Shitter, once they find that their antics bothers someone and that it's hard to catch them WILL do it again.

But that's none of my care. I spend the day on the Internet, surfing and enjoying myself. If I have to kill time, if I have to churn air, I can do it in the comfort of my own home. But I'm doing good at home, almost too good. A friend of mine in the tech field, BB, gave me a nice lead to a company that is looking for someone to take a supervisory role in their company in the financial district. My skills are a little off target but I'm sending in my resume anyway. No one can be too picky in this job market. OH GOD, what it would be like if I got a job that covered my benefits or gave me good enough pay to afford all of my medications. I would walk in the Roach Motel and give stepped on roses to all the women there. Then stand in the middle of the seventh floor and show my naked ass, and just keep it out until the police came and carted me away, and I'll still be showing my ass as they dragged me off.

Fuck them.

Let's see what they'll do now that I blew off their stupid ass WEP developer.

I know that this is all going to come down to a showdown. This will all come down to: YOU do what the FUCK what we say, or we'll TAKE away your GODDAMN benefits!!

Do you think I'm afraid of that anymore?

Hobobob