Shooting People in Alleys

I shot a man in an alley once. He screamed, "Hey man there is someone walking here." Luckily it wasn't a real gun, just a BB gun. I walked back inside and sat in my lawn chair that was sitting in the living room. I thought, "This doesn't make sense, why is there a lawn chair in my living room, there's no lawn inside."

I began to pace. Enough had happened already today, people calling me in different languages, shooting people in alleys, lawn chairs not on lawns. I needed some rest.

After I napped for a few hours, I felt new and improved. The nap had also given me the urge to go for a drive. I got into my car, which made thousands of beeping noises as I turned it on. "Man I should really get my car fixed," I thought to myself. I pulled out of my car port and turned on to the street. As I drove I thought of what I should name a dog if I were to get one. Maybe Otis? Otis was my godfather's black poodle's name. Not one of those prissy little poodles that you want to murder, but a large one that was very strong. I came to the conclusion I wasn't fit to care for a dog and I let my mind wander as I kept driving.

I arrived at the 7-11 down the street from my house, inching forward to perfect my parking job. I was all backwards as I tried to turn off my car. I opened the door, and tried to exit, forgetting to put my car in park. This caused the car to inch ahead with its own inertia. I slammed the break down and correctly put the car in park and turned the engine off.

I spent more than my usual amount of time deciding what I wanted in 7-11, probably because I was still half thinking what I would name a dog if I owned one. I finalized my decision on some M&Ms and approached the counter.

The man working at the counter asked me how my day was going, and I was tempted to tell him about the lawn chair in my living room, but I wanted to seem sane enough to be purchasing cigarettes and M&Ms. "Kamel K Reds," I said. Obviously everyone calls those cigarettes something different. I mean first of all they are made by Camel but spelled with a K. Second they are always behind a plastic flap door so the cashier usually doesn't know where they are. Third they always mistake them for Marlboro Reds, so you have to correct someone who has been degraded enough to the job of a 7-11 cashier to make their day that much shittier.

I left 7-11 and felt like a new man. Restarting an afternoon with M&Ms and cigarettes, lunch of champions.

Making my way back to my house I started to think about every time I said the word "Fuck." Maybe I swore too much. Do people think I swear a lot?" Fuckity Fuck Fuck.

Tits. I usually think about tits a dozen times a day. It might just be a quick flash in front of my eyes that catches me off guard, nothing dangerous or anything, I can still drive while thinking about tits. Other times I picture tits in funny places, like tits underwater, tits driving tractors, tits crocheting, or flying helicopters.

I let my thoughts drift to my obligations. Man that stresses me out. Why can't a guy just think about tits in peace. Someone called me, it was Liz. My student ID and a old lozenge rapper was stuck to my phone as I answered it. Ok, I have to go pick her up now.

-Rahb