Can't Sleep...
Last night after an especially difficult evening at community college, I went to my usual burger shack to numb my pains with some greasy, cheap snack foods. Just wanting a little something to hold me over until I became desperate enough to go back into the newly built subway system to prey upon some little micies or the sleeping homeless.
Anyway, I go to this place at least THREE TIMES A WEEK and it is always the same pimple faced man who takes my order. "Cheeseburger, with Swiss, no mayo, extra onion, and extra rare, seared, barely seared," I mutter to his dead eyes.
**When I first met this man I thought he was one of my kind and gave him the all-knowing wink...to which he said "I'M NOT A HOMO, CREEPY DUDE"...sapien? i have no proof either way to this day).
So, I stood there, undead and lonely, contemplating if I wanted a chocolate or strawberry milkshake with that when the pimple faced man alerts me they will no longer be "searing anything but the albacore burger."
Now, a fish burger goes against all my principles and I retort that he is speaking in crazy tongues! That I go there 3 times a week, maybe more, and that that has always been my order from day 1!
The unmoved cretin looks at me with something close to hatred, to repulsion and says loudly, "WE DON'T SERVE VAMPIRE-LOOKIN', CREEPY DUDES HERE ANYMORE," after which he points to a sign that says it all in black and white:
"NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE" ( and underneath which, written in magic marker, and what appears to be a child's scrawl: "NO VAMPIRE, CREEPY DUDES TOO!"
I see that the situation is serious and potentially one that could put me in danger, so I adjusted my cape over my P.E. clothes and left with whatever dignity I was able to muster.
This world is a discriminating, judgemental, and alienating place. I persevere utterly alone.
Anyway, I go to this place at least THREE TIMES A WEEK and it is always the same pimple faced man who takes my order. "Cheeseburger, with Swiss, no mayo, extra onion, and extra rare, seared, barely seared," I mutter to his dead eyes.
**When I first met this man I thought he was one of my kind and gave him the all-knowing wink...to which he said "I'M NOT A HOMO, CREEPY DUDE"...sapien? i have no proof either way to this day).
So, I stood there, undead and lonely, contemplating if I wanted a chocolate or strawberry milkshake with that when the pimple faced man alerts me they will no longer be "searing anything but the albacore burger."
Now, a fish burger goes against all my principles and I retort that he is speaking in crazy tongues! That I go there 3 times a week, maybe more, and that that has always been my order from day 1!
The unmoved cretin looks at me with something close to hatred, to repulsion and says loudly, "WE DON'T SERVE VAMPIRE-LOOKIN', CREEPY DUDES HERE ANYMORE," after which he points to a sign that says it all in black and white:
"NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE" ( and underneath which, written in magic marker, and what appears to be a child's scrawl: "NO VAMPIRE, CREEPY DUDES TOO!"
I see that the situation is serious and potentially one that could put me in danger, so I adjusted my cape over my P.E. clothes and left with whatever dignity I was able to muster.
This world is a discriminating, judgemental, and alienating place. I persevere utterly alone.