Shitting is a great release of tension. Antonio at the Ebasco dining room and I share the same schedule.
"Every time I eat here, I gotta take a shit 30 minutes later."
"Right before we serve lunch."
"Like clockwork."
"And then at 2."
Tick-tock."
I had only been constipated once in my life at fourteen. I didn't shit for two days and the pain in my bowels was excruciating. No one was home at my parents' house and I sat on the toilet for an hour, then I found an enema plunger and followed the directions. Warm water up my ass. Ten minutes later release and relief.
LATER
Today I have not one cent. I jumped the turnstile of the subway, both coming and going to Ebasco on Wall Street. My bag was stuffed with left-overs from the executive dining room. I was prepared for the worst, but arrived at the SRO hotel to find a letter from the IRS.
A $308.90 refund for 1977.
The last money I'll received for teaching at South Boston High School.
They are still having riots over bussing.
I'm glad to be away from all that hate.
Now all I have to do is find a place to cash my check.
No comments:
Post a Comment