Friday, February 17, 2012

Yesterday, up the stairs and up the stairs I held a football baby who kept his eyes closed the entire time.  He did not care who was making the passes.  He did not care who was dribbling, running, shooting, spiking. No, that baby was all the way to Sleepsville.

The girl with tattoos watching the girl with tattoos.

I held the baby and I said, “You cute little motherfucker,” to the baby and everybody got upset at me. 

GASP!

GASP!

more

GASP!

then,

“What if that is the first thing he says?”

“Well, then I guess that will mean he is a genius one week old baby,” I said.

Everybody knows one week old babies don’t even realize they are alive yet.  You can probably have sex around a one week old baby and they will think you are part of the uterus. Like a large amoeba germ floater thing bumping against something similar.

But, no, make me the bad guy.

I ate crackers then.  Round ones. Gave that baby away .  Ate some cheese.  Texted. 

Then down the stairs and down the stairs.  A guy putting a pole up and down up and down, measuring maybe. I’m not sure. 

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