Crocodile Rock

It's not the heat, everyone.
It's the humility.
Or however that goes.

Folgers coffee tastes like piss. Don't drink it.

Did I tell you about the old guy who fell asleep next to me in Starbucks last month?
We were both sitting in front of the fireplace.
Sharing the end table, sifting through reading material, oggling the baristas.
Stuff like that.
When suddenly, geezer falls asleep right next to me.
And I wasn't sure if I should wake him.
Because maybe he had somewhere important that he had to be.
I quickly lost interest and just let him sleep in peace.
Do onto others, as they say.
I put a bunch of sugar in his coffee, though.
Fuck with his day a little bit.

Do you still remember how to do the Macarena?
Try it out.
Right now.
In your apartment, or bordello, or cubicle.
Wherever you are.
I miss dance crazes.
I think we need a new one.

I get a little testy when I'm in retail.
I ducked and rolled out of Second Cup the other day for my break.
I'm at the bottom of the escalator, and it's choked up with pimply little fuckers.
And I realize that they're discussing something.
With their hands.
They're signing to one another, and I just want to get some 'Totally Greek!'
I think to myself, 'Figure it out, deaf people,' and walk through the middle of them.
Interupting their conversation in the process, I suppose.
Intermission.
I also turned one day while making blender after blender of smoothies.
To see this sea of doe-eyed customers.
And with absolutely no hesitation, I think to myself, 'You're all dickheads.'
I can't even help it.
Intermission.
My luck's not all so bad, though.
I went on break yesterday, and that's when some random kid puked on the floor.
So, I dodged that one.

Alright, that's enough.
I wonder if this post will get me in trouble with the Folgers people...