THE FOG BENDER

sometimes after a graveyard shift you just gotta have a beer.  i don’t care it it’s 9am, i want a beer. i want all the beer. 
later, i will be spotted drunk and passed out, laying half on the sidewalk, half in the street.  i will be honked at bay a Prius attempting to park until i eventually vomit and roll over into my vomit.  a 4th grade field trip will walk past me and stare as my sorry being blisters in the sun, stained, stinky, and stupid.  a seagulls shit descends from high in the sky and lands on my pant leg. 
ten hours later i will arrive at work for my next graveyard shift.