Let us just say there was a luge at the party.

A big slab of ice, carved into, to make a path for the slaloming-flavored-alcohols.

And I woke up and had a premonition that I knew what I had done before I did it but didn’t

know what I had done after I did it.

So my girlfriend watched me wake slowly and it felt like I was in the hospital, with that same

sympathetic concern seen in her eyes.

But right on the eight-hundred dollar rug was a piece of waxy shit every three feet for eight

times.

There was two chunks on the front steps and on my clothes.

My good sweatshirt, my good shirt, my only black pants.

My other grey ones were already shitted to death.

And I knew these pills I have been taking are fucking up my shitting pattern.

Hence, waxy, irregular shit.

The ice cream scooper in the peanut butter jar.

Filled with water because of the shit scare.

And soaking on the counter.

The dew on the grass was glistening and the sun was shining above. The birds were chirping and the grass smelled freshly cut. I arrived at the caddy shack just as the sun came up. It was the Sixty Fourth Annual Club Championship and there was a buzz in the air. The members were excited and the caddies were also.
Normally the caddies would arrive just before dawn then check in with Levy. After checking in, you’d have anywhere from one hour to three four hours to wait. It depended on three things. First and most importantly it depended on seniority. Secondly it depended on how often you worked. And thirdly it depended on showing up early. Now keep in mind that if Levy didn’t like you then all the rules went out the door.

I was walking home-up Bush Street.

And I crossed an intersection.

There was a Blockbuster on the latter side.

I stepped onto the sidewalk and took a step.

Then a river ran right into my shoe.

I didn’t know what it was.

I followed the stream up the steep hill,

To the middle of the block,

And there an old lady stood squatting.

A cane was supporting her weight.

Her knees were bent.

And she was pissing on the sidewalk.

People were walking by.

Cars were driving by,

Horns were sounded.

The city was shrouded with mist.

But no one stopped to look.

Besides me.

One is sitting tall and straight on the edge of his side of the bench by the window.
The other is slouched and short, crumpled into the other side of the bench-far window.
As I sit at a ninety-degree angle looking out the far window, the tall, enthusiastic one says,
“Can I get a sip? Naw just playing. Crr cr cr cr.”
He laughs.
“Shit.”
I say.
“I was about to give you one to.”
And I pretended to hand him my coffee.
“I would have drank it too. Crrrr cr cr.”
The black dude laugh.
The sun is shining and it is a beautiful, fall day, crisp and clear.
The other day it was snowing and the other week it was raining and the other month it was raining-from now until march it will pretty much be gray.
“For real though.”
The enthusiastic one says,
“I love this day. I can see the sky and the sidewalk. We should cherish this day.”

I came up with this idea on accident and it might be quite stupid.

I was texting my girlfriend and before I had fully typed the message, I accidently hit send and

the message was sent as-

“Yeah. Do you want to pick me up then, when I am done with work and we can go to the s”

Instead of writing store, I left it as s.

I immediately thought that, what if this was the new way to be suspenseful-in writing.

For example.

The cat went.

And died.

Because.

The Dog was not mad.

And when she texted me back saying-

“The S?”

I said,

“Store. Da? I was trying to be suspenseful.”

Like I had it planned out all along.

But I really think I am on to.

I am trying to work.

It could be.

Something.