| working third shift town this size makes limited options if you stick to schedule on your days off: village inn on 86th truck stop off the interstate or the casino. booths at village are too comfortable, put me to sleep. air at the tuck stop is too personal since i kissed one of the waitresses in the parking lot. so i stepped on the escalator voltaire and notebook in hand struck by the lack of smoke and sheer number of occupants at 5:24 in the morning on a tuesday. as i walked past a slot machine brighter than a supernova it challenged me to a gunfight in a deranged computerized cowboy voice. then i saw him - my old fifth grade teacher mr. nenninger feeding dollar tokens to a slot size of a mastodon. this is the son of a bitch laughed at me in front of the whole class when i couldn't get north, east, south and west. told me i was too lazy to even make it as a ditch digger. i wanted to go slap the fucker upside the head tell him i'd graduated from college. but the drink in his left hand was twitching like a seizure his fingernails were the length of paper-clips and the worn out grey velcro shoes were stacked on top of each other next to his bare yellow feet. |
Justin Hyde
| At the Casino |
