I look to the clock hanging on the white wall and it’s twelve o’clock noon. It’s time to take my break. I tell Buck I’m going on break and grab my lunchbox from the fridge in the break room. Today, just like any other day, I take my lunchbox out to my car. There’s never anything in it. I take my lunch break in my car to do drugs in my car. Today I’m shooting dope into the back of my hand and chain-smoking L and M’s to keep from nodding off. I think about my wife, Tanya, or Tiny Tits Tanya, or the T Train, as people in her hometown knew her. If you could read my mind you’d want to kill yourself too. I married Tanya because she could put up with my job and my drug use. Tammy was the type of girl who’d fucked probably every guy she was friends with and the ones she didn’t fuck she probably almost did. When I walked around town holding her hand I could hear people passing by laughing, mocking me. Even the ones silently doing it, I could feel them staring just a little too long. My job was to videotape Buck interviewing these just barely 18 year-old girls and having them suck his dick and have sex with him. When they’d pull their IDs out, to prove when they were born, it was on me to zoom in real close and get their birthday nice and clear on the screen. Later I’d go in and edit the shot to blur out any name or home address on it. Like Tanya Chipper. Like 118 West Forest Drive.

Never date a girl you meet on a casting couch.


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