Thursday, July 28, 2016


So outside the bug zapper is popping and snapping and naturally I'm thinking about ice cream. I guess it's what they call a “trigger” these days----not necessarily in a bad way...Dad always took us out for ice cream as kids, and hey, that was good.....
Bending down and picking up pieces of flotsam in the blue of the bug light.....what about you, you poor, brittle bastard? Did you used to be my tooth?
I know one of these sons of bitches must be...
Hard to see in the blue of the bug light. Every now and then there's a long crackle, things brighten up and something big is dying.....a moth or a mayfly or something....
I worked 15 years in the food industry....customers complained about the buglight then, too. Unsanitary, they said. Hey, you think the buglight's bad, maybe you oughtta see the flies.....
Snap. Crackle.
At least for tonight I give up on the tooth. I stumble around 'til my ass finds the chair.
That's middle American Dentistry, kids.....we lose our goddamned teeth. We lose a lot of things.
Unsanitary, shit.
Little lives are ending to save you and your ice cream, and I don't wanna be like Bruce Springsteen and preach at you, but it does sorta mean something. A moment of silence for the eternal rat race of the cosmos? Something. Whatever. I'm drunk.
That's the trouble in this goddamned town, though----nobody understands the gravity of the little things. People have teeth and they lose teeth and these bugs who are minding their own business run into the worst day of their lives so you can have your ice cream, pure, free and unmolested.
Yesterday I was in the IGA parking lot and I saw this half-eaten corndog lying in the carriage stall. Might have been the saddest, loneliest sight I'd ever seen. People fought secret wars in Central America, precisely for that corndog. Jesus died so you kids could all twerk to your Beyonce music.
Screw it.
I've gotta find that tooth one of these days......
Snap. Crackle. Pop, fizzz.....
Peppermint Stick----that was my favorite.
Goddamn fuckin' town....

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