A View From the Mop

Bookmarks & Jesus
By Jove "Lanky" Lank

I am eating half of a sandwich that one of these the guys who work here left on his desk when he took off in his BMW or his fancy-pants car that probably has seats that warm themselves of some other goddamn thing. I drive an American eagle. Tan. Hell of a car. Chugs gas like a champ and takes all those hills like it was dying. A car I can relate to, my car, old and built to last like me and my Monica, the way we keep going on no matter what.

This thing is roast beef and with some kind of dipping thing that was left in one of those Styrofoam containers, and it was still warm when I touched it and I’m not picky anyway, because Monica her cooking is sh_t. She cleans good and makes half our money so I eat nice and try not to say anything bad about her. Monica, always in the kitchen bent over the stove. Je__s.

But I spill which isn’t that big of a thing anyway because here I am with half a half-eaten sandwich in my mouth and holding in my hands the rags and a bottle of cleaner so really a spill here is nothing, especially like now, when no one is around and you can eat their leftover food and whatnot. But of course like it would it spills out and onto their paperwork which tonight is all of these g__d_mn bookmarks. Bookmarks for everything, stamped and written on and with all kinds of drawings and pictures. Like anyone cares about marking a book anyway. H_ll, I don’t even read that much, what in god’s name do they need so many bookmarks for?

So some make it into the trash, they won’t miss them. Must be a dozen or more bookmarks on this one desk alone. Like they read that much, these a__holes that work here. They don’t read, they eat sandwiches. That’s what they do, all these people here before they leave in their slick little cars going home to their mansions. Bookmark me here, how about that, otherwise I have to go home to Monica’s green chile again. J__us.