A Message to the World of Blogging: It's a Boy

Night time in Grand Rapids. The little hand is pointing at 12, and the big hand isn't far off. A coffee shop, like any other (with the exception of a most obscure soundtrack), holds a collection of young men and women. Most of them students. Others, remnants of the life collegiate, dispersed into the working world. I am one of those remnants.

In other words, it's late as a prom queen's period. And as dark as her future. I'm in a noisy coffee house with my best friend, offering nothing more than moral support (or nuisance) while he works on projects for school. Me, I'm reading a fascinating book about advertising.
I should be in bed. Should be. But, luckily for me, one of my roommates needed crack money and pawned the mattress, box-spring and frame of my bed yesterday. I should be pissed. Should be. But it's okay because I've already gotten even.

This guy, let's call him Knuckles, has been looking for my crack addicted roommate for at least two months. According to the messages post-it noted to our front door, Knuckles wants his "fucking money or else." You can only imagine the story behind the messages there.

Well I ran into "Knuckles" at Blockbuster. He was renting a copy of "The Truth about Cats and Dogs," which I found a bit outlandish. I was renting a copy of "Horny Golf Girls III," which was no surprise at all. We both concealed our video choices while I told him were he could find the my roommate. My roommate is dead. Such a pity.

Of course it didn't go down like that. It didn't "go down" at all. And I probably didn't have to confront that fact. But hey, someone had to post "Employees Must Wash Hands" above sinks in restaurants...

I am Paul Tefft. And I'm a real handful.