Work.

8:49 am. The Virginia Slims sisters have arrived.

These girls always put a smile on my face.

One with the Luxury Ultra Light 120’s Menthol.

The other demands V.S. Super Slims Menthol.

I never fail to picture these, most proper,

living skeletons sitting side by side at the

local cafe, gossiping as they decay away like

the smoldering ashes they have accumulated over

the years.

Following these precious creatures is a typical case.

The old and wrinkled mass of bloated leather.

I prepare myself to run food stamps.

Her dry, chapped hands and dirty nails contaminate

my once-flawless counter.

By this time the stench of her rotten ass strikes my

nostrils. I wonder if she has a dead lizard in her

holy pocket.  

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