Hi- ho hi-ho
And so like the grizzled detective, who quite possibly “plays by his own rules”, and who, inevitably, is brought out of retirement for “one last case” I –to quote bill hicks- “ slap on fake plastic grin and plough through this shit one more time”. Yep that’s right, I’m back behind a bar again.
(I apologise to the entire English language for the structure and punctuation for that last paragraph.)
I consider tonight to be my first shift. Last Sunday doesn’t really count because I was still drunk from the night before for the first half of the shift and was so hungover for the second half I didn’t know where I was.
So armed only bracing nips from Steve, my hip-flask, and only eight years of experience, I bravely sit on the bus waiting for the booze addled children customers too annoy and frustrated me all night for two pence an hour.
After work, I’m wondering how to describe work…works work y’know? Not too bad, not awesome, I earn the money ok?
I’m sitting on the last night bus home and it is spotted with the people that are too tired to carry on but not wrecked enough too pass out. Later on in the year this bus will be steaming packed with chanting screeching lager idiots like the a inverted monkey enclosure at a safari park. Luckily I used to work security with one of the bus bouncers, so they kinda look out for me, which is a surprise because there job seems to be mainly sitting and staring angrily out of the window and bullying the passengers for fast food. So I can confidently sit amongst the sick stained egotards knowing that I have two slabs of scarred sociopath watching my back.
Waiting for this bus is an entirely different matter. The bus stop is a horrible place where drunk men finally get too see that the stunner they picked up moments ago is actually a even drunker wobbly mess caked in running make-up and the packs of single men wave their pride about like ugly floppy cocks. I think I slide under most of their radar’s because I haven’t been bothered yet (except for the time I had a gun pulled on me, but that’s another story), that place has seen more blood clumsy butchers apron.
(I apologise to the entire English language for the structure and punctuation for that last paragraph.)
I consider tonight to be my first shift. Last Sunday doesn’t really count because I was still drunk from the night before for the first half of the shift and was so hungover for the second half I didn’t know where I was.
So armed only bracing nips from Steve, my hip-flask, and only eight years of experience, I bravely sit on the bus waiting for the booze addled children customers too annoy and frustrated me all night for two pence an hour.
After work, I’m wondering how to describe work…works work y’know? Not too bad, not awesome, I earn the money ok?
I’m sitting on the last night bus home and it is spotted with the people that are too tired to carry on but not wrecked enough too pass out. Later on in the year this bus will be steaming packed with chanting screeching lager idiots like the a inverted monkey enclosure at a safari park. Luckily I used to work security with one of the bus bouncers, so they kinda look out for me, which is a surprise because there job seems to be mainly sitting and staring angrily out of the window and bullying the passengers for fast food. So I can confidently sit amongst the sick stained egotards knowing that I have two slabs of scarred sociopath watching my back.
Waiting for this bus is an entirely different matter. The bus stop is a horrible place where drunk men finally get too see that the stunner they picked up moments ago is actually a even drunker wobbly mess caked in running make-up and the packs of single men wave their pride about like ugly floppy cocks. I think I slide under most of their radar’s because I haven’t been bothered yet (except for the time I had a gun pulled on me, but that’s another story), that place has seen more blood clumsy butchers apron.
posted by Puck at 1:09 AM
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