Too Many Fools At the Gates

Amazing

SWEEECARE is just amazing. You have got to love these people. I don't know what to make of them anymore. They are just fucking strange. I'm up early today, I don't go back into bed, well, that's not the truth. I got up, took a leak, went to sleep for an hour, got up, took another piss, slept for an hour, took another piss, slept for an hour.

No, that's honestly what happened. It's because I take this industrial strength waterpill in the morning and at night. That shit is strong as Hell. So, I can't piss while I'm sleeping, so it waits until I'm close to waking up and starts to wake me up with having to go to the bathroom. It must take about an hour to fill my bladder, because right on time, I have to get up and go again, an again and as often as I go back into bed, it'll get me up.

But finally, I get up and get behind my computer and get online. I know it before it pops up in my digital calendar on the screen. I have an appoint- ment with Charliqua Love- biscuit. So beautiful. I just can't wait to go to the Hellhole. I could use a shower but going to the shower there is no hot water. Fuck a cold shower, I go and take a birdbath in my sink. Reminds me of taking birdbaths in the public library and Burger Kings and McDonalds.

Yeah, I got cleaned up good. Trust me, I have a lot of fucking practice. I can keep clean with just a bar of soap, a washrag and drops falling from an open hydrant. I got dressed, grabbed my book that I'm almost done reading, and headed out wearing my TFP (That Fucking Poncho). That's right. I still have that bitch from the streets. I'm never going to part with the mother fucker. That's how it goes. When something works, you'd better stick with it. I left the heavy jacket home. It gets hot as Hell under the TFP, so since the weather was going to be in the 50s I thought that that would have done it.

WRONG. I froze my ass off. That shit was cold as a fools hat this afternoon. I thought, shit midday is going to be the hottest time of the day. It ain't shit during November, damn near close to December. The sun is a punk ass. It ain't throwing any kind of heat during the afternoon. The wind whipped through and froze the shit out of me. That was the read deal. I hurried up and dropped off my meds at the Pharmacy and then hit the Way to duck the weather, which was grey and drizzly.

Heading into WECARE about an hour later, I see Lovebiscuit jumping from the stairs in front of the building and run across the street. What the fuck? Lunchtime? I take the elevator upstairs and go to the seventh floor. In the waiting room, there are less than a dozen people sitting, waiting for in a waiting room that seats fifty. What the fuck happened? Someone unleased some Sarin Nerve Gas up in this mother fucker? I walk up to the reception desk, handed over my appointment letter and take a seat. Shortly I am called back to the desk for the same fucking letter to be handed back to me and to be told to take another seat.

But this time it's different: "Mr, Hobobob, Charliqua LoveBiscuit went to take her lunch hour, and then after that she has another client. So we will be sending you out another case worker who will be filling in for her. She'll see you in twenty minutes." Sure, twenty minutes. I take a seat and read my book, refusing to look at the movie 'Charlotte's Web' on the wide screen television. Soon my name is called, butchered in fact. But that's alright, whatever. Many people butcher my full name at the first time pronouncing it. I get up and walk to the door and....

...shit. This was a dyme if I ever saw one (Urban Dictionary: A female deemed to be a 10 on a scale of 1-10, extremely attractive). Damn. She was a hottie. Now why couldn't this be my case worker all the time. I probably wouldn't have a problem getting my ass in here it she was. I walked behind her and searched for her ass though, and didn't find one, and her legs were like two stilts, but goddamn was she a looker. She gestured to the other seat in her cubicle. I took a seat. "I apologize if I butchered your name back there." Oh, no probably (you little sweet thing). I looked for her cleavage. Couldn't find one. She had a pair of sunny side up eggs for breasts. Too bad, but still, the grrrl was hot looking. She had to lack somewhere with all of those looks. If she would eat a sandwich or two she'd be unstoppable.

We go through the session. The problem this time. I haven't been going to the therapists because I'm dropping them. This does not sit well with the Dyme. She gets up and talks to the supervisor. She brings her spindly legs back to the cubicle and takes a seat, telling me that I have to go back to my psychiatrist and get further therapy if I can. Like Dr. W. is even going to talk to me ever again. I dropped so many of their appointments that they no doubt dropped me in return. I'm in between now, waiting for Dr. A. to give me another psychiatrist's referral.

Now I have to go crawling back. Ain't that swell? Well, what else, Dyme? "We need to talk to someone about this, let me call Dr. A," she says after coming back from her supervisor. Didn't I just tell you what the deal was, Dyme? I guess this is check my story time. She got E, the receptionist. Then, "Well, let's talk to Dr. W." She got an answering machine. "Let's call Dr. K!" Got another answering machine.

Maybe, do you think, that normal jobs aren't as miserable as yours and let their workers go home on a half day since this is Thanksgiving Eve? She sits back in the chair. "Well, that's strange, no one is answering anywhere. Well, we'll just have to leave it up to you to make the necessary appointments before you and Charliqua meet again," she said, honestly bewildered. What are you sweet thing, on crack?? I walk off, taking my appointment letter with me and allow the Dyme to show me to the door. I head towards the way and on the way there I pass this panhandler. "Spare 50Cents?" He's asking everyone who walks by. I come up behind him because he's walking in my direction. I shoot past him, "Hey, brother," I frown, this guy is White, but I understand. "Brother, you have 50 cents?" No, sorry bud. I cross the street, go down the block, and pass a Dunkin Donuts. I come back around. I'm starving. I haven't had lunch and it was pushing Three. So, I stop off and pick up a dozen munchkins.

Coming out of the Dunkin Donuts, but guess who's standing outside camped out and waiting for me? The Panhandler, hand out. "Hey can you spare 50cents?" Sorry bud. "But I saw you walk into the Dunkin Donuts. You mean they didn't give you change from your donuts?" Can you believe that shit? Hobo monitoring! Sorry, I paid with exact change. "But I just asked you for change earlier." Why am I talking to his fool for? I put a number one train and half of Manhattan between myself and this ass. I stop and do some shopping. I pick up SpermHam and bagels for my favorite SPAM sandwiches.

I settle back into the spacepod.

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. I think I'm going to dig in.

Hobobob