"where's my bike?"
i looked around. i thought about where i parked it last night. yep. i parked it outside the house. it had been stolen. i went back inside and started punching and kicking every damn thing i could destroy. then sat down and called the police. after the initial outburst i was quite calm. not so angry. i think it had something to do with getting ass-raped 2 days before. i had been so fucking calm since. i was the zen master. all i needed was a big cock smashing my hole to pieces and i could achieve that inner piece i been searching for. maybe i should become a bottom. yeah because that's what the world needs, another miserable hooker blog and yet another bottom
i few hours later the police found Trevor, my shitty little motorbike, dumped in the river not far from my house. "cool. i'll come pick it up."
"it's been towed," said the policewoman, "but we don't know where it's been towed to. um... someone will call you back about that."
Benji had quit the brothel and was heading back to sydney for a couple of weeks. he loaned me his car. awesome! over the next 4 days i spoke to 2 police stations and about 7 or 8 different officers, all of which could not find where the hell my bike had been towed to.
stressed and annoyed and angry, driving to work saturday morning in Benji's car, i hit another car on Hoddle Street
fuck!
the other car
Benji's car
1 comment:
that's FML not FLM - Fun, Love and Money, thanks Mel and Kim (R.I.P.)
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