reJECTIONS OF BEER : 03

From BEER (08-07), unfinished-draft posted without permission:

I found a hatchet sitting on the backside of the plaster ceiling in my bathroom today. I was up there and in there to repair a pipe in the neighbors floor. One man's ceiling....another mans floor and, in this case, apparently, also his hatchet stash point. I used to keep mine in a nylon stuffsack covered with soot. I'm going to reconsider my stash for the hatchet, keeping it under the floor is just so fucking Edgar Allen Poey. So damn, you know, hatchet in the handbag and the hairy armed hitchhiker-ish.

NPR was playing and after listening to THAT for an entire day I was not in a good space. I jumped down off the ladder, re-tuned to straight up crap and tossed the radio into the bathtub, electrocuting my washcloth. It didn't put up to much of a fight. It stunk in life and it stunk at dying. Besides, today, when I got out of my car there was a cable guy being escorted out of our building by a resident. The resident was happy and the cable guy noticed a lady across the street walking a little white dog. The cable fellow, a tall black man, asked the lady, "Is that a Maltese?" The lady said that it was and then the cable dude asked if it was a male or a female. The lady said it was a girl. The cable guy replied, "I had a boy and a girl maltese and the girl maltese died, I still shake my head and I cry, I miss her every day."