(long time since last post, this is a work in progress, as they all are --hh 12/07/06)
My job as the forklift operator has taken its toll upon my health. Back and forth, shipping boxes of chicken legs from the truck to the freezer and on to another truck. Fourteen hour days, and no time to think. I cough. Sometimes, I think briefly about my future. It is not in agreement with what I had pictured. I used to have dreams, and in those dreams, hope existed. And now those dreams are dead, hope is dead, and oblivion awaits.
I have problems sleeping after work. I walk the city in a haze. My heart thumping in my chest, the cause being either, over exertion, or the beer mixed with the painkillers. I am a ghost blending into the ether. Camouflaged into nothing. I pass out at my door step. The next morning I wake up in bed, I tell the woman next to me to leave. She is fifty, I am thirty, way too old. Old enough to be my mother. She cries and somberly picks up her clothes. I feel sorrow for a moment. And then she is gone.
The day at work was a mixture of sedatives and coffee. The boss yelled at me for working too slowly. I gave him the finger when he wasn't looking. If only had the backbone to quit. Today's task was moving chicken from freezer #3 to freezer #4 because freezer #3 needed maintenance. The only problem being that freezer #4 was already full. I told the boss this and he said if I could not do it, then he would find someone else that could. So I shoved everything inside the best I could. If they wanted to ship, for example, the honey glazed legs today(packed in the furthest region), then that would be a problem.
In the early evening, I barely made it to my couch. Sitting in a forklift all day, sounds relaxing, but it is not. The stiffness of my body was uncomfortable until I took the muscle relaxers. My kids called. I talked to them for a little bit, asked them how their grades were. Its the same routine everytime. I know the only reason they called was because their mother needed more money besides the child support. I asked them to put mommy on the phone. She explains what they need. I am sure its for her and not them. Then I send the money. What am I going to do with the money anyhow? All I do is work and sleep. And of course drink. But there is always something left over.
I awake at midnight. The city lights seem brighter than the day at times. It filters in through my shades and onto my face. I get up and look in the fridge for food. Nothing.
I put on my jacket and go to get something. I pass a bar on the way. Why not?
I show up the next day at work still drunk. The boss has seen me like this before and looks the other way. I'm all smiles and flirt with the office secretary. She doesn't even look at me, my judgement is poor. I feel ashamed for a moment and hop into the forklift....and fall asleep. I awoke to the pain of the 4ton machine pinned on my leg. Evidently, I drove it off of the dock leaving me where I lie at the moment. My coworkers get together and try to right the machine. I scream at the slightest movement. Paramedics come and give me morphine. From ambulance I arrive at the ER. The doctor mumbles something to me, and I nod my head. They put a breathing apparatus over my face and the next thing I know I am in a hospital bed.
I look around the room and see my kids, ex-wife, and her new boyfriend. My kids look worried so I smile and that reassured them. They smiled back. The doctor walks into the room and says something to me and my wife. He is asking a question, I just nod my head. He gives me something intraveniously and I get real tired. The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder and tells me something. And before I fall asleep, I thought, 'no fucking way'.
I walk the streets with my music player. It plays the old R&B classics, the music I like. "Whats going on?" My other hand supports me with a crutch. I ask people for money. Missing a leg makes many feel generous. When they tell me to buy myself a hot meal. I tell them 'hell no, I am not buying food, I am buying booze!' Why lie? How else can I keep the good times rolling and expurge my sins by vomiting blood.
My favorite song comes on and I start hopping around on one leg like a madman. People look at me. And I say, 'go away!' Can't a man enjoy his music in peace. Somebody points out that their is no music and I do not have a radio. And I tell them, its not a radio (fucking fools!) that it is an MP3 player with a tuner. What is this 19-fucking-95? This is the future man, and I am a time traveler!
A young man approaches me and calls me dad or something. I scream with spit that dribbles down my beard. And he leaves.
