The pavement I pounded, all day. No joy.
I was hoping to get a job at Crumptown Coffee but when they found out I worked at Biggbucks for two years my resume sank sadly down the pipe. Too tight jeans and a handle bar mustache would've helped or perhaps a very detailed tattoo of a carrot on my neck.
I ordered an americano and sat at the front window bar thinking about heat dissipation. My spacing out was interrupted by a young Joey Ramone look alike busting into the shop, his face bloodied. Somebody jacked him up mega style.
"Some agro mofo just busted my nosed for littering! Call the cops!"
Joey grabbed a bunch of napkins to mop up his face.
"There was like, three of'em. Fuckers jumped in a white van and drove off!"
I walked out of the shop. There was nothing else going on, just a gaggle of shocked hipsters with mouths agape. I got tapped on the shoulder from behind.
"What's up, homepage?"
Oh shit. Her name is Zaley. Last time I spoke to her she was dating a Brazilian Astronaut -- no joke.
"Whoa, how was Spain?"
"Crappy."
She hugged me. Her neck was sweaty and she smelled like a bike ride. I don't know how I stopped my boner.
"It's good to see you."
"Totally... was there a fight?"
"I don't know what happened."