Updated: Nov 30, 2019
I thought I wanted a Masonic tarot deck once. I owned it for nearly six months before I finally decided to open it and pick a card after a weird night at work. It was like the 8 of gold or some weird shit. I don’t know if I was just too drunk to figure out what it meant or what, but I felt zero connection to it. Maybe I’ll bring it to work and give it to the next Wolf of Wall Street I run into.
I don’t get along with those types well. Too one track minded for me; like the guy from last night. He walked right on up to me and told me he wanted to fuck me. Did he think he was closing a business deal with Russia in Las Vegas? Like seriously, guy needed a strip club geography lesson.
Of course, I flipped the situation around. He truly did make me uncomfortable. Basically, he might as well have just said that he didn’t give two flying fucks about me. I told him that. I asked him if his sexuality and emotions had always been permanently separated. Apparently, they had been. I just came out and asked him what the hell happened to him. I hit a nerve so I just eased off and told him that he’s seen and if he needs a therapist he can come back anytime.
I knew peeing in a bathroom decorated in Sophia Loren wallpaper before I went to work was an omen for something. Maybe a lesson in courting a girl like me. Poor guy, I hope he can at least learn how to act more human. His last few sentences to me was just a repetition of what a bad person he was and shaking his head back and forth with his hand over his eyes. I really didn’t mean to ruin the guy’s night. I should have just told him that I was Jesus Christ and the only place whores were allowed was near my feet. In hindsight, I think that line would have gone over a lot better.
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