Working Man's Blues Ch. 02	

I was taking a cab to work for a few days but it was just too expensive. I don't know anyone around here, and it embarrasses the hell out of me to ask anyone for a favor. I would have asked one of the guys at work for a ride but they all live on the other side of town. The asshole in the Vette who hit me has full coverage insurance, but I haven't heard anything from him or his insurance agent yet. I tried calling mine. That was a waste of time, so I had to start walking to work. I had myself convinced it wouldn't be so bad. That's when mother nature reminded me I live in Florida. It rained on me three days in a row. I was so embarrassed walking home in the pouring rain. I looked like one of those street walkers you see hanging around at dark intersections or camped out in the medians on the boulevard. 

I came down with a hard case of the flu. My lungs were full of fluid and I felt queasy and punch drunk for almost a week. I bought some of that powdered flu relief medicine and toughed it out. I had a fever that made me feel like I had fiberglass under my skin. It was a miserable week. I know I should've gone to the emergency room and got some antibiotics, but I didn't want to rack up another bill I can't pay. At that time I had plans on working my way out of this situation. Now I'm making plans to do just the opposite. 

A few days back I was walking home and I saw something that jogged my memory. My walk home from work takes me past a big fenced in truck yard. At one end of the yard was a row of big green dumpsters. There were a bunch of crows sitting on and around the dumpsters. They would pick at the garbage, cawing and fighting amongst themselves. Beside one of the dumpsters was a stack of big cardboard boxes. 

That made me think of my mama's backyard. It was huge. She had eighteen big trees lined up in two neat rows. At the back of our yard was a steep grassy slope that flattened out into a wide spot of level ground. In the summer it would fill in nicely. I remember taking pride in cutting our lawn. When I was finished it always drew complements. On Sundays and holidays my mama would always put on a big meal for everyone. I don't know how she could cook for so many people so easily. By lunch time there would be as many as thirty or more people gathered around. At Easter my sisters made yellow sun dresses with yellow bonnets for all my nieces. They would toddle around mama's big backyard playing in the leaves and chase our dog Duffie. The boys would be playing hide and go seek or freeze tag between the tall rows of trees. They would pile up a huge mound of leaves and take turns running and diving into them. Mama had a pomegranate tree close to the house. The boys would pick a green pomegranate and dare each other to bite into it without making a face. 

Mama had a goat named Nannie. I can't remember why in hell we had a goat. We didn't live on a farm or anything. Nannie had little curly horns that always made me think of Princess Leia's hair. When we had a get together it was an ongoing joke to walk over to the little goat and bend over in front of her. For some reason that pissed her off. Every time she would hike up on her back legs and heat butt you square in the behind. I remember my sisters would bring their hot shot boyfriends and trick them somehow into bending over close to Nannie. Sure enough she would give them a good pop and they would just about come out of their shoes. Everybody got a good laugh out of that. 

Every time we got together someone would find a big cardboard box and flatten it out. One of us would sit on it at the top of the slope and someone else would push them down the hill. Sometimes my sisters would slide down with their babies wrapped in their arms. The bottom of that slope turned out to be a favorite spot for taking pictures of my nieces and nephews with big toothless grins on their faces. They would reach the bottom with their mouths and eyes wide open. They would like they didn't know if they wanted to laugh or cry. Mostly they would cry the first time, then a couple of minutes later they were begging to slide back down again. At christmas and thanksgiving we would have damn near fifty people out there playing and sliding down the slope. It's amazing how mama always managed to make sure we had fun. I don't know how she came up with half of it. I miss those times. I would throw this gun away right now if I could go back to the early eighties.

I stepped on a piece of glass on my way home from work. It seems like bad luck is nickle and dime-ing my ass to death these days. I sat on the curb and took my shoe off. I had a sliver of glass about an inch long embedded in the side of my right foot. It slid in from the bottom and sank in so far I could see the tip peeking through the skin on top of my foot. It was bleeding bad. 

I limped over to a fast food joint across the street and asked the lady at the drive through for some napkins. I showed her my foot. She looked at it, then me, and she disappeared. A few moments later an older man came to the window and handed me a brown paper bag. I thanked him and apologized for bothering them. I walked back to the curb and opened the bag. I was going to pack napkins around the cut to keep it from bleeding so bad until I got home. There were three cheeseburgers wrapped in wax paper and a five dollar bill in the bag, along with a big stack of napkins. They thought I was some kind of homeless person. I sat there fighting tears off while I packed my shoe full of paper napkins. Two months ago I didn't have a care in the world, and now people take one look at me and think I'm a fucking charity case. I wanted to take the food and the money back to them, but I didn't want to face them again. I just wanted to go home. 

By the time I got home my shoe was full of blood. I held my foot unter the faucet in the tub and washed the cut clean. I pulled the sliver out and it started bleeding like crazy. I cleaned it with some alcohol and peroxide and bandaged it as best I could. I had to throw my shoes away. They were falling apart and I knew they wouldn't hold together through another washing. They were two years old anyway. I had a ratty old pair I used to wear when I would do yard work. They were shot to hell but they would do till I could afford another pair. 

I sat on my couch and propped my foot up on my coffee table. It was throbbing like a bass drum. I knew that that night would be the night. It's weird what goes through your mind when you've resigned yourself to die. I decided I wanted a cup of coffee before I put the gun to my head. I got the note and put it on the kitchen table. 

I keep those coffee liquor flavored candies around. I like to put one of the candies in my coffee cup then add the sugar, cream and coffee. I let it sit and melt the candy for a minute before I drink it. It's one of my favorite small pleasures. I poured my coffee and sat it on the table next to the suicide note. I got the gun out of my dresser then sat down and put it in my lap. When the candy was nice and liquid I took a sip of my coffee. It tasted like heaven. Not the best last memory I can imagine, but definitely a good one. I took my time drinking the coffee then shotgunned the last sip and sat the cup down. 

 I cracked my knuckles and picked up the gun. It was about an inch from my temple when the phone rang. 

Fade To Black