Wild
“I've gotta go make this p*****t, and then I'll be in to work," I tell Skunk as I grab my wallet and cell phone, along with my jacket. “I shouldn't be too late."
“Take your time, I got it if you are," he answers from where he lays on the couch, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. I'm still amazed by how much this dude smokes.
“I've gotta go out to their clubhouse, you think I'll make it back in time?" I have directions, but since I'm not completely familiar with Bowling Green yet, I'm not sure what kind of drive time I'm looking at.
“Depends on how fast you can take those roads, some of them are curvy. Just plan on being late. Not a big deal dude."
I truly aspire to live my life giving as few f***s as Skunk does. I'm sure it's because he's high all the time, but damn. “See ya."
H
