I was too gone to go to work
Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but I been trying to keep myself dry in the shitstorm, you know? First of all, I finally had to wash my car. Now, if it was a nice machine, I would take good care of it and keep her looking fine, but it's just my beater Festiva, and I could give a crap how dirty it gets. I mean, I ain't sitting on it, I'm sitting in it. But it got covered with this sticky crap. I have no idea what it was, but I couldn't open the door or hang my arm out the window without getting it all over me.
On top of that, I decided that I was spending way too much money on beer, so I decided to switch to whiskey, only whiskey made me want to punch people. Not in a "bust you open" way, but in a "You gotta check out what this feels like!" way. In any case, when I woke up with a swollen lip one morning, I decided I needed make the switch back to ice-cold Miller Genuine Draft. Definitely more mellow.
I would probably quit drinking everything if I could find a reliable source for weed. Luckily, it's been regular lately. My guy says it's from Canada or Idaho. Wherever it is, they must be growing it in Jägermeister or something, because this shit is strong!
I was supposed to go in first thing to the cafeteria yesterday, 'cause I was covering a morning shift for Kenny, who covered for me last month so I could go celebrate the fifth birthday of my hangout bar, the Empty Keg, where they were having two- for-one Millers and free wings all night. I done early shifts before, and it sucks. There aren't a lot of people, so mostly you gotta just unload stuff from the back room and sweep the floor. I thought I would just tap my stash and head in.
Now, usually, I don't have any problem going in to work stoned. In fact, I mostly go to work stoned, and after an hour or so, I duck out back with a couple guys to split a joint, hang out on the floor for another few hours, then it's out back one more time before I clock out. It helps me not to lose my shit when some dude comes up to me and asks where the ranch dressing when we're both standing right in front of it.
But with this weed, it was different. I took two hits from my bowl and spent the next 20 minutes looking for my keys, when they were in my hand the whole time. That was not a great sign. It's not like I was worried I wouldn't do a good job, 'cause I just don't give a shit, even when I'm straight. I don't know the first thing about beans and rice, but if someone asks, I gotta tell them something. But this time I started to get all paranoid. What if the customer figured out that I was high, and they talked to the manager?
Back in the day, that was the worst that would happen to you. Now, you have to worry about people with cell phones calling the cops. What if they did that? There was no way I was going to put myself in that situation. Ben Kisner don't need the cops crawling up his chute over a pissed-off customer. So I decided I should call in sick before anyone got to work, so I could leave a message and go back to bed.
I'm not sure, but I think I said something about a sore throat. I only remember trying not to stop talking. I tend to clam up when I've been smoking the sticky icky, and I didn't want to leave a five-minute message where I wasn't saying nothing. So I just remember talking a lot.
Next thing I know, my phone's ringing. I just sat there, waiting for it to stop, but it kept on going for like 15 rings before they finally gave up. "Okay," I thought. "I'm off the hook." Then it rings again. And I knew that it was work and they knew I was high. So I decided that I had to answer that phone and tell them I was sick.
But by the time I thought all this through and picked it up, I just got a dial tone. If I didn't call back right then, I knew they were gonna get the cops over there because I was high and missed my shift. I dialed, but I got a wrong number. That freaked me out. I got out my wallet real fast and checked the number, then dialed again. It was the right one. I got my manager, who said that he didn't call, but they should be fine today. I clammed up like I usually do, and the manager told me that I must be sick, so go back to bed.
That night, when I was more relaxed, I called one of my coworkers to see what I missed, and found out that someone brought in donuts. I was pissed, because it's like they only bring donuts in when I'm not there or I'm late and all the best donuts are gone.
Meanwhile, Kenny is pissed. He says that because I never worked his shift, I still owe him one. That is straight bullshit. There was nothing stopping him from calling in sick for my shift. But if he's going to be a baby about it, I guess I'll pick up another one for him. The shit I gotta do to keep people happy.