I was at work at the hardware store today, when the Parole Officer showed up. He’s been showing up more often lately. I wonder if he knows something. He’s a dick, but I can’t really complain because he gives me a lot of leeway.
He wanted me to piss in a cup for a drug test. Which is fine. I really don’t do drugs too much. I prefer drinking.
I said that to a prostitute years ago, and she said,
“You might think this crack I smoke is bad, but demon drink is the worst.”
She offered to give me a blow job, and I told her that I’m married, I don’t have to pay for it. So, she said,
“Honey, you payin for it anyway, you just don’t realize it.”
And she was right. I paid a ton because of that marriage, and still pay for it in lots of ways. We’ll call that prostitute wisdom, or Ho Smarts. Not sure which.
So, the parole officer told me that I need to get into some drug and alcohol classes, anger management, and maybe some schooling.
I don’t need no anger management, I just need stupid people to get out of my face. I need stupid fuckers management.
I told the P.O., that exact thing and he laughed.
“Well, maybe you can take some business classes at the local college and learn to manage stupid people.” He said.
That’s not a bad idea. Do you think I like who I am? No. I’m just trying to get ahead, without being a slave like the rest of my family. Working hard everyday. Slaving away for what? Just to get a few bucks and never having any time to live?
I can do that on my own. I can barely scrape by, just like them while at least having a life. Why should I give my life to someone else to rule over?
The P.O. said he’d set me up with a councilor to decide if I need drug and alcohol classes or not.
We’ll see how it goes.
I heard there’s a theft ring in town. I’m going to go check them out and see if I can shake them down.