Fast Facts. . .

. . . about diarrhea.

I. I have it.

II. Smoking aggravates it.

III. Smoking, while driving on the Expressway, was a bad idea.

IV. I called in sick today.

Now I'm here in a coffee shop. Sitting amongst this sad collective of degenerate bastards who spend their afternoons nursing a cup of coffee because it's cheap, and they have nowhere else to go. How sad you all are. One lame motherfucker who is talking to an equally lame motherfucker spells out every big word he says. It's followed by a pause wherein he grins. How I want to smash his stupid face.

This other lady has tattoos all over her hands. Hey, lady, maybe if you didn't get pictures on your hands you'd have a job to be at right now.

And you, guy with legs crossed effeminately. Nobody reads free newspapers, not even the people who write them. Those rags exist for the sole purpose of giving the homeless something to sell on the streets. Otherwise, every bum and wino would be hiding under the beds of every daughter in Chicago.

Everyone's looking at me. I think I've been talking aloud as I write. I tend to do that sometimes. It helps with clarity.

I've got to go.