Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Tressle Tables Seating 12

The usual beer and street

"On the last day. As far as I know, it might be my last day. The last day of my life. Who the fuck am I doing to break your back?!? "She looks at me bewildered, my boss. With boredom of a scene eerily familiar. Shit, yesterday, these words seemed more convincing. Then I remember that it's my job, which paid for it and that should go done at a rate about 10-15 times higher than that which I can express this morning. I, with the superiority of those who know they're right, I still spit in the face of my arguments and I ask him "where are we? in prehistory? how come there are still the "leaders"? What are these served to 5000 years of evolution? Who gives you the right to tell me what should I do? Are you a man like me. Maybe worth even less, know that I did not come here to kill me with fatigue, I have a life to live out there I What do you think? Work to live, is not that the work is an end in itself. If I get tired too much here then I can not "live" you know? If I leave here I will not have exhausted the strength to do anything. Yes, work work, for charity, but not always ask me to run like a madman, I'm tired, I can not go on like this ... I can not ... "falls a silence of 3 seconds flat in the first two we stare into his eyes, then I look down, guilty." drunk last night too eh? "" Yes "" You can not be a rag every Monday morning ... I'll have to take action ... "

I should get me a little 'back while" spit in the face of my arguments, I concluded three hours the night before, with a liter of Montenegro ... I think I've heard in my breath to breath to survive. I still feel it in my throat, bitter. Mouth, tongue and throat as if they were soaked, sponges that sometimes they release a little bit which gives me the chills to suffer the horrible taste. The way you walk, the color that I took ... only a strong headache assures me that I'm not a zombie. He is absolutely right on the head ... and then it is not my "boss" no ... is my "employer" and I must be grateful. Were I to direct the mica would like someone like me. One of those is always to complain, complain to a 'humanity is transformed into a "let me be I do not want to do shit." I was born in the wrong place. From baby too 'I, as anyone born here, I was taken on a cliff tops, analyzed and considered suitable for luck. Suited to dealing with a life where you have to work ten hours a day more on Saturday or was regarded as lazy fuck. Otherwise I would have been thrown into a mass grave. Here you have all of 'excessive number of hours they spent the day only to work. As if it was smart. I think they do so knowing that they are experiencing could be their last day. 'S last day of their lives. So if the worst were to happen already see the reporter in front of the camera interviewing relatives and friends, and everyone said in unison "It was a good guy, a hard worker." "A hard worker," What the fuck would you suggest that? I feel more sad to die because it was one that worked and not a worthless son of a bitch unemployed?

However the night before I'd be too quiet, I would have stopped the second liter of beer, that you need to sleep, but when I decide to go home Arriving at the bar? The "bag" an old friend, so called because he does not drink if you do not stand up. Let me explain, is that not only stand and that if he does not drink is so damn sad and tired I would do without if you could even breathe, too demanding. You see dragging turn, looking for a chair from which he never unnail. Aterro as sad and an empty sack. But then drink, and how if you drink, and when it does become a 'more is activated and begins to involve everyone to go somewhere that is at least 30 km away. An empty sack can not stand, a bag, yes. Come to me smiling and with some unhealthy initiative, I conclude that it has already started drinking. "Oh, tonight in a little place they live music. Program: listen to a little 'music, let's attack button with some of those who dress in rags comunistelle us so horny and drink one or two beers. Mezz' Oretta and we are home. "
answered as answer a Northern League (who wants to impress his new girlfriend to dinner first, a girl that does the job of truck driver and is all 'about 115 kg of tattoos, and he should prove to be a tough guy. Over her) to a Indian looking for a second time to get him to buy a rose almost march. Or at least a little monkey with eyes that light up. "No, thank you." Fuck do you think? you think there are educated leaguers around? How common are confined in small places, are discriminatory and prejudiced, frighteningly close to racist. Like those rude ass in the league.
Sacco does not insist, strange, perhaps he realized that Sunday evening, nay it is past midnight on Monday. I put him a beer and a pint of his usual drunken slob philosophy "if we believe, if we enjoy, we can make Sunday a new Saturday!" I do not want to contradict him is so good to see him excited about its crap but I can not fail to report my concern "Yes, but you just try to turn Sunday into Monday."
We move the hands of 'watch with a few more glass of beer, then comes the time of paranoia "I drink too much," he says "only the sick, drink only water," I replied, "No really, I can not find Girl "" maybe you taste too difficult ... how would you like your girlfriend? "he ponders a bit 'and swallow half a glass in one go" at this point I need is one that let me make my lips even those words do not say "every time it comes from drunk with some semi-poetic phrase "ah you satisfied that you give the" sum up myself. "Last week coming home drunk I accidentally back of a black man who stood on the side of the road with the bike, I did not have the reflexes to avoid it" has feelings of guilt, you see "mmm could hurt an innocent man, you got that was good nigger" jokes, but he has no desire to laugh. He says he still saw the mirror for the other 's are was getting up the courage to Failure to return to apologize to him and now he repents. Just beer. Now to the bitter.

"I heard a gynecologist who committed suicide a few days ago, even those who see it resists all day. We are the fruit 'last ride, and order another round, I stop, it would be too much to swallow too I think that in a few hours begins a long day at work I say "tomorrow ..." "Tomorrow? May not be there tomorrow. As far as I know this could be your last fucking day" Holy shit, that's where this shit comes out of the '... could be the' last days ... bla bla bla "that continues to turn around the head. At that moment it seems to me a sacred truth. It will be the fault of the drunk but damn convincing, I think tomorrow I'll say to my boss. And drink the 'last.

A friend of mine told me: "The best of the" leaders "is what it does not pay the workers," I said I do not know if that was the best of them, but that certainly is a great son of a bitch .

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