Anything for a Buck

Since summer school never calls me to sub, I’ve started a gig in geriatric care. Yeah, that’s right—I said geriatric care.

Shut up, Brad.

Yeah, I know, It’s the kind of gig I once declared was at the very bottom of the list of impossibilities. Funny how a ravaged economy and endless throngs of vicious-spirited people can change your threshold, huh?

It still beats subbing for junior high.

Hmm. I’ve had a hard, strange, surreal past couple of years. I’ve found myself in truly bizarre situations. The next logical step is to do like the K-man suggested and take a three-month contract with an Alaskan crab-fishing boat. Since I hate customers, clients, vendors, patrons, students, businessmen, and blue-collar workers, that’s about all I have left. And then I’ll hate fish.