on smoking crack under the bed
so there we were, under the bed, smoking crack with
mymother and jake.
i suppose i should tell you how igot myself into
thispredicament in thefirst place. it's very simple,
really. i'm a much more boring guy than i'll let on to
people when they talk to me. i guess you could sayi'm
average, if average really meant anything atall these days,
when every tom dick andharry - or should isay hallie in
theinterestof political correctness - is on prozac because
their beloved cat died when they were four.
now don't get me wrong, i'm not a cynical guy bya long
shot, far from it. i just hatewhen all the goddamned
problems of people become my problems. buti guess that's
how whis whole goddamned stupid thing got started anyway.
[this is an emily story. i'm not done typing it yet. i have
tennis practice three minutes ago.]