Old Crow tasted like the grains of asphalt when Calvin looked at the
six singles in his wallet. Someone played a Lou Reed song on an
acoustic guitar with their eyes closed. The bar had a smell kind of
like a warm fart, and people said that a lot. Calvin bought another
shot of whiskey felt very much like an old man at a bar. Soon, he left
and bought a 40 ounce bottle of King Cobra and another for a friend. He
stood in his friend’s kitchen and had an actively agreeable
conversation about how jobs are shitty and getting jobs is shittier.
“There’s just nowhere to go,” is something one of them said.
When he was 4 years old, Calvin realized that The Cookie Monster was not actually eating cookies, just throwing them toward his face and crumbling them up until they fell to the floor. This was the instant life became a mocking inevitability, and a feeling of doom kept with him forever.