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Someone’s yelling outside and I become distracted
I sat on the couch and the day was like any other. the voice I heard outside was unfamiliar and I listened as I tried to match it to a face, in my head.
Nothing.
Something comes on the TV and I get distracted as intended.
As I fall victim to whatever shit was flashing in front of me, A knock fell on my door but I don’t respond, they wait the appropriate amount of time before knocking again so I slip my feet into my slides and stand up. I look around at my shitty apartment. “What a piece of shit I am”, I really need to clean the place up. I should throw some of the empty soda cans and wrappers away. “Fuck it though”.
I go to open the door and the sun does not fail to remind me how dark and dreary my apartment is. Like, there’s legit a fucking day going on, outside right now.
The man at the door hands me a slip and the box he is holding. Underneath the box, he holds his clipboard where he’s clearly wanting me to sign something saying I got the box. But, I’m here now and since I know I am me and not someone else trying to steal my package from’ me; I don’t feel the need to sign, nor offer this man an explanation as to why I allowed the door to shut in his face. Why should I? he looks like an asshole with those shorts on. Like, I can see your knees.
I fall back to the couch and take a hit of the pipe that rules most of my life and then another before setting it down. I cool it off, take another and cool it off for real this time. I take a moment to appreciate my damp and disposable magic eraser and let the smoke roll out of my mouth and watch it disperse itself through the air like a Smokey cloud of fucked up sadness. Thick and heavy, It has that smell to it that follows as it drifts to the floor. I think I am a piece of shit, I am a total fucking loser piece of shit. What a worthless scumbag. Fuck it though, I pick up the knife on my coffee table and stick it straight between the folds of the box and allow the tape to curl in which allows the box folds to lay slightly open.
Through the Foam peanuts rubbing together and making that tiny squeaky noise; the man knocks again before I hear the clasp on his stupid clipboard open and snap shut again. Fidgeting with paper and then leaving it stuck somewhere between the door and frame. That’s fine.
I reach inside and pull out the plastic bag which is buried deep in the little pink pufferfuckies.
I open it, look inside and yup, just as I was expecting; a Hypochlorous Acid generator.. fuck yeah.
© Granado.A
Nothing.
Something comes on the TV and I get distracted as intended.
As I fall victim to whatever shit was flashing in front of me, A knock fell on my door but I don’t respond, they wait the appropriate amount of time before knocking again so I slip my feet into my slides and stand up. I look around at my shitty apartment. “What a piece of shit I am”, I really need to clean the place up. I should throw some of the empty soda cans and wrappers away. “Fuck it though”.
I go to open the door and the sun does not fail to remind me how dark and dreary my apartment is. Like, there’s legit a fucking day going on, outside right now.
The man at the door hands me a slip and the box he is holding. Underneath the box, he holds his clipboard where he’s clearly wanting me to sign something saying I got the box. But, I’m here now and since I know I am me and not someone else trying to steal my package from’ me; I don’t feel the need to sign, nor offer this man an explanation as to why I allowed the door to shut in his face. Why should I? he looks like an asshole with those shorts on. Like, I can see your knees.
I fall back to the couch and take a hit of the pipe that rules most of my life and then another before setting it down. I cool it off, take another and cool it off for real this time. I take a moment to appreciate my damp and disposable magic eraser and let the smoke roll out of my mouth and watch it disperse itself through the air like a Smokey cloud of fucked up sadness. Thick and heavy, It has that smell to it that follows as it drifts to the floor. I think I am a piece of shit, I am a total fucking loser piece of shit. What a worthless scumbag. Fuck it though, I pick up the knife on my coffee table and stick it straight between the folds of the box and allow the tape to curl in which allows the box folds to lay slightly open.
Through the Foam peanuts rubbing together and making that tiny squeaky noise; the man knocks again before I hear the clasp on his stupid clipboard open and snap shut again. Fidgeting with paper and then leaving it stuck somewhere between the door and frame. That’s fine.
I reach inside and pull out the plastic bag which is buried deep in the little pink pufferfuckies.
I open it, look inside and yup, just as I was expecting; a Hypochlorous Acid generator.. fuck yeah.
© Granado.A
