A Month On From Christmas

Steepleton, like most places I'll bet, is, well, a little different a month on from Christmas. You probably know exactly what I am talking about before I even begin my story.

Needing groceries and liquor I went out today after I had lunch and drank my last fucking beer. I began, as I often do, with a visit to one of my city's dozens of thrift stores where I found Elvis Costello and Raveonettes cds missing from my collection. The store manager was having a customer empty his pockets of all the shit he had planned on stealing and being none too pleasant about it. "I know you have more in those pockets. I want all of it. You are lucky I don't call the fucking cops." Skinny fuck was carrying his own weight and then some in his Whalley special shoplifter's jacket.

At Safeway nobody was smiling. Even the cashier's union smiles were forced as a Boxing Day turkey shit.

Parking lots can be the worst this time of year. On my way to the car I heard both, "What the fuck are you looking at?" and, "You fucking cunt!" spat at someone or another who was asking for some verbal or worse by simply being alive.

In the depressing as fuck Sears clearance store, where I went to stock up on cheap tea, I spotted copies of "Killer Kane" on sale for $2. Sad to see a movie as great as that one being given away fucking near free.

My (supposedly) Christian fellow citizens should be happy Jesus, being unrelated to their impossibility of a God, has no plans to return after a nearly 2000 year absence to save them from an uncomfortable afterlife. Jesus would tell us all to go fuck ourselves.