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Dan Dringle,
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Published May 15, 2012

 

You_do_the_same_thing_every_Sunday.You_grab_your_wallet_and_your_keys_and_kiss_your_wife_and_tell_her_you__8217_re_going_to_Staples_for_office_supplies.  You_aren’t_lying.  You_have_every_intention_of_going.png

You do the same thing every Sunday.

You grab your wallet and your keys and kiss your wife and tell her you’re going to Staples for office supplies.  

You aren’t lying.  

You have every intention of going.  

You need to buy a bulletin board, one of those fancy ones that are half natural cork surface and half dry-erase board.  

You think this will fix everything.  If only you could just keep your thoughts organized.  Write them down.  See them laid out.  Be able to take a step back and take a look at your goals to see them as a series of small, manageable tasks.  Right now it all seems too much.  

You feel more uncomfortable in your own skin than a Puerto Rican does at a job interview.  

You drive past Staples without even realizing it, but when you do, you keep going.

You drive and drive measuring time by the sips you take of that Templeton Rye whiskey-filled stoneware coffee mug your son David got at the Renaissance Fair.

You love your son, David, no matter how many family dinners he’s ruined by talking about dragons.

You pull over and park your Pontiac by the reservoir where all the women go to jog.  

You leave the engine running and tune the stereo to a local AM sports talk radio station and set the volume just soft enough that you can’t make out the words yet just loud enough that you can’t hear your own thoughts.

You unbuckle your pants and pull out your old gross goblin dick and time your strokes to the beat of the runner’s footsteps.  Just as the freckle faced mulatto girl with the dad calves makes her second lap and you come like the mail.  

You clean up the oily dick sick your just disrespected your steering collumn with using a napkin found in a discarded Wendy’s bag from under your passenger seat.  

You treated yourself once tonight.  Why not treat yourself again?  

Treat yourself to Wendy’s new and-cut and panko breaded North Pacific Cod Premium Fish Fillet Sandwich.

You come home.  Your wife asks you why you didn’t get the bulletin board. 

You tell her the one you wanted was out of stock.

You tell her you’ll try again next week.

You do the same thing every Sunday.

- Dan Dringle

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