That Leftbanker guy ain’t in today. My name is Earl Buckets, the maintenance man in his building and I’ll be writing to you today. I’m in his apartment cause I had to fix the toilet. Like some pretty boy writer can fix his own toilet when it’s broke? Yeah right.
What kind a job is writer anyway? All the people in this building got faggot sounding jobs: computer programmer, web designer, software engineer—where’s the MAN in them jobs. Hell, my sister could do them jobs—if she wasn’t in jail. Get a man’s job: Police MAN, fire MAN, maintenance MAN.
Most a the time I just sit around in the mop closet down in the basement. The manager locks me in there for safety reasons but when they is a problem, when they got what I call a ‘situation’ they call on old Earl. Just like in that movie Top Gun. When the commies started getting righteous they went and got the Mav. Same thing here in maintenance; the sewer backs up, toilet gets busted, maybe there’s a grease fire, they come wake up old Earl.
I live my life like that Top Gun movie and it really, I don’t know how to say it, it really EXPANDS my world. It helps me see things clearerer. Example: I took a look at Leftbanker’s busted toilet. The safe way to fix it would’a been to just crouch down and take it apart. Sure, that’s how Iceman would’a done it. But I tried to think how Mav would do it so I leaned over the toilet, sorta upside down. Very unorthodox, you might even call it dangerous, but I took care of it. Mav and me don’t care what people think, we just get the job done, period. Flying jets and what I do ain’t so different.
Now I’m kicking back sipping a little of Leftbanker’s booze. Scotch, I told ya he was a fruit. What kinda guy ain’t got a bottle a Jack Daniels or some tall boys lying around? Not one goddamned Billy Ray CD or Skynyrd in the whole collection, neither--nothing but classical. I’m half afraid to look through his clothes cause I’ll probably find a few dresses.
I’m just getting a little head start on the drinkin’ cause later I’m going out partying with Oscar Bungston. He’s the urinal cake representative for this whole part of Seattle so I don’t need to tell you he’s a pretty important guy. He’s got a way with the ladies, oh yeah he does. He starts working the charm on the ladies and there’s no stopping him. Most a the time they give him a head start before they call the cops on him. I still get warning shots fired at me and maced pretty regularly, and I got enough restraining orders to wallpaper the mop closet.
I learn things from Oscar. I bet you didn’t know that if you drop a couple a urinal cakes in the tub it makes for a very refreshing soak, just like a Jacuzzi.
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