Among the few items on the store shelves were jars of contaminated baby food, flags of no known country, and slippers made of bubble wrap and duct tape. A fluorescent pink headline on the cover of a women’s magazine on display at the checkout promised to reveal how to be productive even when suicidally depressed. I handed the cashier a coupon I didn’t realize had expired. “What are you, stupid?” he snarled. I took it to be a rhetorical question.
“I’ll lick stamps,” I told the gargoyle from HR during the job interview. “I’ll lick whatever you want.” He shook his big, ugly head no. With that, I found myself back on the street. It had just started to rain when Jesus appeared to me. My first thought was that he looked nothing like his picture.
Deranged angels hoot all night in the tree outside your window. Better get used to it. Horror is everywhere. If you go searching for an out, you’ll just end up in a 24-hour McDonald’s beside a woman with fangs and a moustache. I’m not there even when I am. And if the sky brightens, it’s never for long.