It was Sunday morning. Time to go to church.
I staggered out of bed. “Work, legs! Work!” I staggered into the bathroom, stripped, turned on the shower, and staggered in. The water was fucking cold! “Jesus!” I turned the hot all the way up. “Fuck!” as I felt my skin boiling away. I stepped out of the water, and stuck a hand under it while I adjusted it.
“I hate fucking Sundays!” I soaped up and rinsed, then washed my balding head. Then I turned the water off. “You’re fucking out of time!”
I got out, dried off, then shaved as I stood in front of the mirror. Standing there, starkers, I wondered about those guys that shave their nuts. The thought of even using an electric razor down there terrified me. “Maybe the use Nair or something?”
I got dressed. Even put on a tie. Had to tie that bitch three times. I got it tied, looked in the mirror, “Fuck!” and started over.
I hopped in the car and floored it, stopping at Hardee’s for a giant Coke, and a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit. I ate as I flew down the highway, screaming, “Fucking idiot!” every time I had to change lanes to get around some slow ass bastard.
Of course I got there on time. And once there, everything was perfect. And after the service, all the old bitches said to me, “I wish my boy was just like you.”
I wrote this for Siobhan Muir‘s #ThursThreads, Week 112. Please go read all the entries in this week’s #ThursThreads. They are good reading.