I was browsing the archive of my old blog, and happened upon this entry:
This...might get vulgar.
So, I get out of work last night. That's how this story begins, me leaving work. Are you following? Ok.
I'm driving home and I notice that my gas gauge is below empty. So I do the natural thing, I stop for gas. I hand the friendly clerk nine dollars, which is all the money I have in the world (some of which I had to borrow, for crying out loud!). I begin to pump the gas...I blink...and the the pump cuts off.
Nine freakin' dollars got me less than five gallons! It was $2.03 per. What the fuck! Son of a whore! I pulled out of the gas station and my gas warning light immediately blinked on again. It wasn't even enough to put the needle over the empty mark!
Well, the next thing I knew that gas station was in flames and I was covered in blood. And I don't really remember anything else.
That was March 24, last year. When I see $2.03 at the gas pump these days I praise the deity and gladly hand over my forty dollars, thankful for the few drops that manage to squeeze out of the hose into my parched, barren gas tank. My spirit is broken so easily.
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