It was five in the afternoon when I popped the boner pill. There was nothing left to do but wait. Sam was supposed to come into my room after 7. We were to bang it out which would release 10 years of backlogged semen into her. Afterwards I was to depart the facility, never to return.
I was a nervous wreck. I began pacing.
I looked out the window. At first, the sunlight through the trees calmed me. Then a dog ran up to the glass and took a shit. Ignoring that, I watched an elderly couple take a peaceful stroll along the sidewalk. Behind them, a mugger came up and robbed them a knifepoint. I sighed at the pitiful sight and began searching for something else to look at. I watched as a hobo walked into oncoming traffic and started shouting racial epithets.
“Goddamn Boston’s a shithole,” I said aloud. I closed the window blinds and turned on the TV. One of the many godawful NCIS iterations was playing. Scott Bakula was charming it up in his fake ass southern accent. “New Orleans is the greatest city on earth and I will MURDER anyone that says otherwise,” he shouted.
Hmm, I thought. I changed the channel and watched Drew Brees discuss his time with the Saints. “Yeah, I got my hair plugs from some dingy back alley doctor behind Bourbon Street,” he explained to the interviewer. “I tell you what, I wish I could be in New Orleans right now. Too bad they banned me for exposing my penis…”
Then it occurred to me: all my life’s problems were due to living in Boston. If only I could escape this hellhole, I thought. If only I could be in a REAL city…a city on the bayou, where fan boats and alligators roamed free; where open container laws were non existent; where titties were flashed at the mere sight of purple and gold beads.
If only I could be in a real city like NEW ORLEANS.
In a matter of hours, Larry was going to be there. I knew what I had to do. I walked up to the Salvation Army receptionist. “Get me on the phone with Greyhound!” I ordered.
But what was I to do about Sam?
TO BE CONTINUED…
The Internet Ruined Everything 