Her name is F*** You. That’s spelled…
I’m way too stressed to deal with your sh*t today.
I was bored.
I was lightheaded.
I hadn’t had anything to eat.
which still didn’t explain what I was seeing before my eyes this morning as I got into the van that The Wife drives for work.
It will go on the top of my computer at work along with my quill pen, my weiner whistle and broken keychain.
Weiner whistle? It’s shaped like a hot dog and you blow on it?
You’ve got a problem with it: take it up with the Oscar Meyer people. It’s got wheels and a bun. It’s not that phallic.
“Felicity”, she explains to me, came from a Happy Meal at McDonald’s.
I was on the road for a lot of hours and it made me smile
She says the girl at the window put it in the bag against her protestations not to put a toy in the bag.
It was like she knew it would make me smile. ‘I’ll give it to her,’ she probably thought.
You realize I’m writing everything down?
You realize you’re a ballsack. B-a-l-l-s-a-c-k.
I didn’t correct her, but I think it might be two words. B-a-l-l s-a-c-k.
And then Feliz Navidad came on the radio and I stopped writing so I could sing along.