Wednesday, October 19, 2011


Seen on the Purple Line to Linden at about 7:30 a.m.

With his right hand, Antonio pulls his white dress shirt out of his gym bag and shakes it open, releasing the offensive smell of cheap cologne into the air. With his left hand, he dials his office to say he’ll be late. He knows this might be the last straw; he’s stayed up too late again. He always stays up too late for one reason or another. Sometimes he whiles away the hours playing Halo on Xbox Live, ignoring the immature verbal abuse from his thirteen- and fourteen-year-old opponents. Other times he goes out to small, sweaty dance clubs, drinks too much tequila, and spends the night grinding against desperate women that he’ll never see again. He spent last night sitting on his ergonomic desk chair, legs crossed, bag of Cheetos in his lap, watching internet porn that he couldn’t bring himself to enjoy. He didn’t want to touch himself with Cheeto-hands anyway.

What will he say if they fire him? Antonio’s boss will call him into his office, ask him to have a seat. “We’ve given you several chances, Antonio, but your constant tardiness leads us to believe that you’re not fully committed to this job. And in this economy, there are many people who would be happy to take your place.” What excuse can Antonio give? “I was just being myself, Sir.” You can’t change who you are. 

Hello there! Posting at work, so there's not much time to talk. I think I am going to skype into Leta's Denver writing workshop Drivel & Wit tonight. I'm excited. It will be good to have feedback from strangers on my stories. 

1 comment:

  1. If by Skype you mean Google Hangout :) Dude, totes excited!

    Also, Antonio is very pathetic, yes.


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