Going Back
I have thought about it, Wrestled with it. Tried to find other ways. Nothing is working out. Doctors won't release me to go back to work. I have one skill. I don't need good kidney's to fuck. I have no special other in my life. Condoms are popular. I need money. Not "play around" money, but "need to keep my kid" money. I have been homeless before, I could do it again. But I will not subject my son to that life. I will do whatever it takes to keep a roof over his head. With my specialty, I wouldn't have to work very often each month to make ends meet. The less I expose myself to it, the lesser the risk. Will I find clients? Not a problem. I know right where to go. Do I feel like a skank? Yep. How will I feel after? Like a skank. Will it take me back to times that I do not wish to relive. Yep. I can't wait for my $250 government bail-out. $250, a bail-out? How about the government pay for my monopolized utility bill of $1800? Now, that would help. The space program is far more important then my survival. Let's make sure we can still wander around the stars so we can continue to debate what can never be explained and of course we need more satellites to spy on the world and rendered the five minute communications gap a thing of the past. Mar 18th, I will take my first client since 1985. My birthday. Celebrate. Separate. Disintegrate.
So Starts The Circus...Again.