I'm going for a drive!
Where are you going?
I dont know. I just have to get out of here.
George went out the door and got in his Versa. He put the car in gear and shot into the warm darkness. Kids. Money. Family. It was all coming down on him. And worse he worked at home so like a lot of people he could never get away from his problems.
But he was free now. He was out. He jammed the stick shift through the gears with the radio blaring. The empty road flared up and then he saw lights. He should go to a bar and get drunk. He should go to a strip joint and pay for a lap dance. He saw Dairy Queen and turned the car into the drive through.
What can I get you?
George stared at the lit marquis. What will it be? A shot of whiskey. A cigar.
Ill take a malt.
What size.
George paused. Fuck it.
A large!
Please pull around.
George pulled the car around and a pimply faced kid met him at the window.
That will be 4.19
George handed him the credit car. Expensive but you know what, fuck it!
The kid came back with his malt and a receipt.
George zoomed into the parking lot and parked among minivan moms and baseball dads. Some Little League game had let out. George dove into his large malt. Yeah he had a cholesterol problem. You know what, fuck it! He ate the whipped cream, the cherry, then he sucked up the chocolate malt like a man on a mission. His throat numbed out and the sugar buzz came on like a veil. George sat slumped down in his 12,000 dollar car in the suburban parking lot.
Yeah baby. He was out. Fuck it. Maybe he would get another malt. Maybe a hot dog. That would show them. Nitrates, pig guts, carcinogens. He drove home and left the empty malt cup the car. Fuck it. He was a man . He would not take this shit.He would drink malts and eat hot dogs and screw women if he felt like it. HE WAS A MAN.
He went in the house and saw his wife.
Oh hi.
I came back he declared.
Cindy stared at him and shrugged.
Oh...I didnt know you left,..I thought you were in your office.
No...I went out!
Cindy looked at him.
Can you take out the garbage?
George stared at her defiantly, thinking of the malt cup she would find in her car in the morning.
Sure.
Where are you going?
I dont know. I just have to get out of here.
George went out the door and got in his Versa. He put the car in gear and shot into the warm darkness. Kids. Money. Family. It was all coming down on him. And worse he worked at home so like a lot of people he could never get away from his problems.
But he was free now. He was out. He jammed the stick shift through the gears with the radio blaring. The empty road flared up and then he saw lights. He should go to a bar and get drunk. He should go to a strip joint and pay for a lap dance. He saw Dairy Queen and turned the car into the drive through.
What can I get you?
George stared at the lit marquis. What will it be? A shot of whiskey. A cigar.
Ill take a malt.
What size.
George paused. Fuck it.
A large!
Please pull around.
George pulled the car around and a pimply faced kid met him at the window.
That will be 4.19
George handed him the credit car. Expensive but you know what, fuck it!
The kid came back with his malt and a receipt.
George zoomed into the parking lot and parked among minivan moms and baseball dads. Some Little League game had let out. George dove into his large malt. Yeah he had a cholesterol problem. You know what, fuck it! He ate the whipped cream, the cherry, then he sucked up the chocolate malt like a man on a mission. His throat numbed out and the sugar buzz came on like a veil. George sat slumped down in his 12,000 dollar car in the suburban parking lot.
Yeah baby. He was out. Fuck it. Maybe he would get another malt. Maybe a hot dog. That would show them. Nitrates, pig guts, carcinogens. He drove home and left the empty malt cup the car. Fuck it. He was a man . He would not take this shit.He would drink malts and eat hot dogs and screw women if he felt like it. HE WAS A MAN.
He went in the house and saw his wife.
Oh hi.
I came back he declared.
Cindy stared at him and shrugged.
Oh...I didnt know you left,..I thought you were in your office.
No...I went out!
Cindy looked at him.
Can you take out the garbage?
George stared at her defiantly, thinking of the malt cup she would find in her car in the morning.
Sure.
