I walked through the open door and then I walked back out. I needed to use it but the sawmill shitter was as plugged with shit as a Conservative Party hate ad. I walked back to the fucking job where my brother who had relieved me told me,"Fuck Beer. You look like shit. Why don't you take the rest of the day off? We can fucking handle it."
I went looking for the fucking boss. He did not even wait for me to ask. Told me, "Get the fuck out of here."
I considered stopping at each and every gas station I saw on the way home. Are not as many of them as there used to be. If gas stations sold beer I would have done just that. Motherfuck peace in the Middle East, what I needed was a great big sawmill shit and an ice cold beer.
I kept on driving.
When I got home I took the dog for a short walk. Figured she needed to shit more than I did. She did.
Pretty soon I was feeling better. Sawmill shit and a cold fucking beer. The only way I could feel any better would be if I punched Gary Bettman in the fucking head.
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