Life Sucks

"And twenty-five cents equals a quarter." Thank you very much Captain goddamn Obvious.

It's been said that "the shit rolls downhill" and it certainly seems to be doing so: our customers are getting crankier and crankier, management is getting stupider and stupider and I'm about two and a half seconds from having a complete breakdown and strangling someone. I'm getting sick and damned tired of having to listen to our wonderful in-store ads that feature country singers and R&B artists yowling that they'll be "Home for the holidaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaays!" I'm sick of the screaming kids, bitchy parents and clueless head cashiers. And things aren't going to get any damn better, especially in the next few weeks, not on the job or at home.

Prime's younger brother, for argument's sake we'll just call him "Wavebreaker", was diagnosed with cancer last year. We didn't think much of it, at least not until recently. Then we got the latest update on his condition: the cancer has taken over a kidney and is spreading into his lungs. Prognosis? Wavebreaker has two to six weeks.

Two to six weeks. That's it.

I could scream. Primus knows I fucking want to badly enough. For the last three days I have been repressing the urge to scream at someone. I just want to know why. Why the fuck does this shit have to happen? I could cry, just thinking about it.

Cry and pray, that's all I want to do right now.

Poem copyright Weasel Productions, November 2005. No distribution is allowed without permission of the author or else I'll put a smack-down on ya.

From Primus do all sparks come,
To Primus all sparks return.
O Primus,
Mighty Allspark,
He who is the Light in Our Darkest Hour,
look upon our comrade's spark.
Take it within thy hands
and grant him
rest.
Til the Day All are One.

--Weasel, trying not to cry now.