This is a continuing story. To read subsequent entries go here As I Sat on the Bus.
Oh man it feels good to sit down in this air-conditioning. I don’t usually spend the money to take the bus home, especially on Fridays but Michelle left me a message to come to their place and have a little cook out.
I know I ain’t done right by them girls, or their momma either. I swear I don’t mean to be such a piece of shit. I don’t know how it happens. I have every intention, every time of finally doing right. I love all three of them more than any other people in this world since my momma died but I always seem to end up hurting them.
I’m just a piece of shit. Maybe I will get off on Howard Street and have me one drink over at Mel’s. I’ll just have one, maybe two. Then I won’t be so nervous when I look them girls in the eye.
This post is in response the writing challenge As I Sat on the Bus.