I got Jenny a tit job for Christmas. I can’t say it was completely altruistic. She had always been bitching about how small her tits were and I always said they were perfectly fine. In truth, I had always enjoyed the tits of women a little more well-endowed. But I loved her, so what was I to say. So I got her a tit job… for Christmas.
Her mother had thought about giving her one for her college graduation. She wanted to be a TV reporter back then, and Jenny and her mother both thought larger breasts would be a benefit. I imagine while she’s at home her mother will ooh and ahh at how she now fills out her sweater. Her father will suspect that my intentions in giving such a gift were not truly altruistic. He’s never liked me. So she and her new breasts are gone, and I am left here working out the last few days of the year.
I never figured out why the “man” always plans the biggest projects for this time of the year. The best I can figure is that the “big man” back in January or February said, “this will get done this year,” and everyone that controls me twiddled their thumbs for a good 10 or 11 moths and then said, “oh shit!’ And thus I am stuck here working double time for single pay to get a project done so these people, who have all already left for the holidays, don’t catch any shit. I guess that’s the way it goes. At least, once the scars have healed Jenny’s tits will look good, and that will be something to come home to every night.
So with the boss on vacation, and Jenny out of town, I have taken to drinking the leftover Budweiser in the refrigerator from when the boys were in town a couple of weeks ago. I took to that, and then met Billy at the burger place to eat a late dinner. I still cannot figure out how to cook for just one. I thought abut going to get Jenny a couple of CDs of this band that she heard on the radio recently and fell in love with. But I realized after dinner that I was swerving a little too much for all of that, so I just came back home.
I came through the dark rain and past the little restaurants in my neighborhood where a skeleton crew is holding down the fort for a few patrons. It seems as if the whole town is becoming deserted. As if everyone has gone to places far from here, with their children and loved ones in tow. As if everywhere in the world has decided that they’ve done enough for this year – go ahead and enjoy some time off. A few older people drink cocktails at the bar and wait for their sons and daughters to arrive over the next couple of days.
I am dreaming of a white Christmas. Something to drastically change this landscape. A dream world in which I can live for a few days. Snow banks around my house so thick that the mail man gets lost trying to wade through them. But we just seem to get a cold dark rain that prohibits nothing.
I think I’ll go fire up the fake logs and turn on the Christmas tree. Hell, I may even pick out a round of ‘Rudolph’ on the guitar. I’ll have another couple of the leftover Budweisers and then go to bed. When I awake I will have about 8 hours until I can head out to a little patch of land in North Carolina, that my parents bought years ago, that I am still trying to call home.
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