big asses and hot
sauce
the writer is sixteen years old
he’s got three chapters done in a novel
while i spend most mornings simply staring at mine
he carries the pages in a big red binder
every time i see him he shakes it at me
i think maybe he’s doing it to mock me
but we’ve never had a conversation about my words
unless he’s googled me
like the other people who work here have done
if so, i hope he doesn’t send my shit
to the HR department like the last asshole did
the writer likes to give me his chapters when he’s done
he says he’s writing a novel
because he wants to have more to offer his audience
besides his singing and his acting
sixteen year old kids with twitter and facebook
must think the whole world is one big audience
his book is a science-fiction fantasy
about multiple earths light years away
and some federation of buff people who drink protein shakes
and always end up insulting each other
i don’t read genre
because the regular world is fucked up enough
i had to read a chapter twice just to figure out
what in the hell was going on
when i gave it back to him i told him what
i always tell people who give me their writing to read
i told him his novel was nice
that seemed to work for him
because he shook the binder at me
and got right to work
on the next scene
when the book is finished he’ll probably
get a literary agent and a major press right away
i’ve seen it happen before
he’ll think the world just works like that
it does for some people
for others we sit somewhere day in and day out
hoping for just a little something to get us through the
hours
a good line
a passable existence
a lunch that doesn’t suck
the chance at another earth light years away
where one can start over again without any baggage
or the ladies in HR
knowing that you get drunk most nights
and that you have a fetish
for big asses
and hot sauce
for contemplative shits at five in the morning.
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