I went out skateboarding the other night, but when I got to the park my kingpin broke. The kingpin, for all you neophytes out there, is the bolt that holds the truck hangers to the baseplate--trucks being the metal things that hold the wheels to the deck and allow you to turn. When my kingpin broke I was left high and dry, and I had to walk back to the house of my friend where the cat and I have been staying, this past while. It's probably just as well, since my foot has been sore all summer, and likely could use some more time to heal--not to mention my aging knees.
So I've been working as a custodian at my church for the week, replacing the regular custodian who is off running a marathon. I like mopping floors, sweeping and vacuuming. It's contemplative work, and my church has some really beautiful old stain glass windows. It's a tranquil environment. I might be well suited to working in a funeral parlor, now that I think about it. Wood, carpet, quiet and solemnity. Much better than the pasta factory. The temp agency is still trying to track me down to work more factory shifts, but so far I've evaded them.
The Evil Bob Dole is also trying to capture a Fakie Agent or two, in order to interrogate them and discover crucial details about the Fakiegrind Endtime Polka Party. So keep your eyes open, and don't take candy, CDs or chewing gum from any strangers.