I needed money badly see. I was running on flat broke, flat broke. I was down n' out and out n' down. I was living on the edge and falling fast. Let me take you back a ways, a long ways. It was during the summer after my freshman year in college. I thought that I was some know-it-all, but I was just a punk kid. Down on his luck and running scared. I needed some scratch, so I did what anyone in my position would do, I got a job that would raise me some dough. It was actually at Pizza Hut. The problem is, the Pizza Hut gig was my night job. I moonlighted during the day at a major defense contractor testing sonar cabinets for nuclear submarines. But that is another story. The real issue is that after working for the man all day and at Pizza Hut all night, I was a total, certified zombie by the time I completed the books, cleaned up the store, and made the night deposit. I was unintelligible, I grunted alot, and didn't care if people saw me scratching myself in public. I had this same schedule day after day, for the entire summer.
Anyhoo, one night my oldest brother tells me that he will come and get me at 3:00 a.m. from the store and give me a ride home if I will toss a pizza his way. This sounds like a crummy deal from his side, but you should have seen the meatballs that I loaded up on that bad boy. When it came out of the oven, I swear you could hear a heavenly choir singing. Change the scene. I am all done, my brother has his pizza, and we are driving home. He was really bookin' down a windy side road, all windows open and the night air blowing in our faces. In my hand I have a Mountain Dew in a jumbo to-go cup. My brother rounds a curve and there in the middle of our lane, almost smiling at us, is a big old polecat. In my delerious state of total sleep deprivation, I close my eyes and shriek like a 13 year old girl at a horror film, but only with less manliness. My brother deftly swerves the vehicle around the skunk, but in my panic I splash my Mountain Dew all over my face and shirt. I let out an ear-piercing yell, "Skunk Juice -- I'm hit!". My brother nearly steers his vehicle into a ditch because he is doubled over in total laughter. After he catches his breath, he coolly reaches into his pizza box and pulls out a slice of pie. He savors the taste and all is quiet once again. I slink down into my seat, cold, moist, and clinically dead, hoping, just hoping that this was all a bad dream.
