puresauciness

Great poem. One of my favorite jobs of the 2 million or so I've had was as an ice cream man... actually specifically a frozen lemonade man, in Rhode Island. Every day I'd drive my little frozenlemonademobile truck down to the beach, open the awning, put out my tip cup, and spend the day reading, alternating between the sunny beach and the shady cool truck, slurping frozen lemonade, ogling the beach bunnies, and selling happy beachgoing people frozen lemonade, which made them even happier.

The only downside was my boss, this tiny little white dude with a big bristly black mustache who had an anger problem and would literally throw temper tantrums every time he saw me (or any other employee, but that's their problem). He would turn purple and scream and leap in the air and yank on his mustache (he was bald). At first it was so astonishing that I'd just stare, then it became pathetic, and very quickly it became insufferable. I don't take shit, especially not from bosses. But I loved the job, so it was a conundrum. Finally I lost my temper back at him and got fired, the end.

I'm listening to Thrill Kill Kult's "13 above the night," adding to my nostalgia. That was a nice summer, all in all. Everything's better on the beach.

No, you didn't spell it wrong.

Want me to off your boss? I work cheap.