by Lance Allen
***
I landed a job driving dry cleaning all over the city. Paid shit. But I'm a loser. That's what I'm supposed to get paid. Shit just like the rest of us. So I drive this stupid van all over the city picking up dirty cloths and dropping off clean clothes to people who live off my stupidity. I have to be stupid. They need something to do. Something to feel good about. Saving me from myself. Didn't take long for me to find out I suck at dropping shit off and picking shit up. I drove around to other places I like. Did shit I like to do. I told them I was learning. They didn't seem to think I was trying. They gave me another chance. I crashed the van leaving a bar after lunch, around 5:00pm. I never did find out what happened to the van.
***
I met her at a show, downtown, you know the place. I was talking to Dave, telling him about this thing I was doing. She wasn't close by but I looked up and there she was. I never looked back. That doesn't happen, but it did. I was that guy. And it didn't bother me a bit. Being that guy. Okay she's hot. There I said it.
***
He said he wanted my autograph. I asked him why. I should have punched him and walked away.
For being the smartest girl in the room, he said.
And what makes you say that, I replied.
He knew I would say it. He made me say it. And I had no idea.
Because you’re talking to me and I'm the smartest guy in the room.