Wednesday, March 16, 2011

18 Hours of Fuckery - Chapter II: Stickyfingers, Roundabouts, and Ducks

You wake up on a Friday morning hungover, cursing yourself for staying out so late as you pop a children’s vitamin and eat a cup of applesauce (it’s a hangover miracle cure that you swear by even though it never works).

Today you’re going to a different school than your usual one. Most of your coworkers are students like you, so for two weeks your schedule is sort of strange, teachers swapping shifts and locations to make time for studying and final exams.

Directions in hand, you brush the snow (you could have sworn it was raining as you drunkenly stumbled home five hours ago… Ohio you kooky fuck) off your car and begin your drive.

Your drive takes you a little outside of Columbus, down a country road.

Where am I?

Your directions become useless as you realize every sign is covered in snow.

Fuck. Where the hell am I? Was that a barn?

You drive and drive, looking for some indication that there’s a school nearby, but find nothing but stray farm houses and railroad tracks.

Why the fuck is there a roundabout in the middle of this fucking cornfield? And what is it about having money that makes white people start putting roundabouts everywhere?

A deer? A fucking deer? At a dead end? I am for sure about to get murdered.

Okay… I’m crossing a body of water and there are ducks. There is water and ducks. What the fuck? Fuck, fuck, fuck.

On a lonely road you find an ice cream place called Stickyfingers (really?) and decide to ask for directions. Discovering that it’s closed, you go to the bait-and-tackle shop next door.

A bait-and-tackle shop? Where the fuck am I? Why is it open at seven in the morning? Fuck, it’s past seven, I’m late.

The man behind the counter gives you directions and an orange soda in a glass bottle “on the house,” probably as a reward for traveling to 1958 in your Bonneville.

You pass the school on accident, because it is hidden behind a giant hill and a pond, because at this point, that makes sense.

You spend your early shift tired, ready to leave so you can go back to campus, print off your final paper for class, and turn it in.

Hopefully nothing makes you late…

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