I was laying in bed listening to the radio this morning. A modern country song was playing. It was a piece of crap. So I lay there wishing the radio station would play a song or two from Jerry Lee Lewis' new record. All they played was more crap so I rolled over and pretended for a moment that I could phone in sick without getting the evil eye from Sonja.
As I rolled over one of my feet dragged over the other one and tore a toenail in half. It hurt like a good country song should. And it bled all over the sheets. Tomorrow morning should start a little better, I hope.
I hauled my bleeding toe out of bed and hit the road.
I pulled my car over to the side of the road around the corner from where I work and phoned in. I told my boss, "I can't make it in. I broke a toenail and it hurts really bad." The boss went apeshit. His language was so bad I fucking near blushed on the other end of the line. Fourteen other guys had already phoned in. They all had better excuses than a broken toenail. So I told the boss I would try and make it there as soon as I could.
Steam was still coming out of his big ears when he saw me already at my job before the morning whistle blew. He said to me, "You phoned me from the parking lot didn't you? You motherfucking cocksucking son of a bitch!" I answered with the only words he wanted to hear, "I'll buy the beer on Friday, sucker."
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