Cooking For One

The house was in shambles. Uniformed officers trolled through the rubble.The detectives hadn’t arrived on scene yet.There really wasn’t much for them to do at this point, other than to try to preserve the scene.
The scene. The scene was fucked.And not in a good way. The neighbors reported shouting. It was actually the domestic that they were responding to. It had become part of the beat. Not that it was exclusive to this part of town. Just more…common.
The heat blew past the car before they even turned the corner. The neighboring buildings were miraculously untouched.It wasn’t really magic. That’s just the bullshit that would pass for news. Masking a tragedy with a sliver of good news. There weren’t enough silver linings these days.
“What the fuck?!” This was definitely not something that was ever covered in any academy course. They would both know, they weren’t in the uniforms a full year yet.
The car lurched as they drove in to what could easily pass for a war zone at this point.…

I am not a fan of stereotypes or sweeping generalizations based on heritage.

Unless I'm making them about myself.

I am of Irish descent.

I like the drink.

I like to tell stories (both aloud, and in written form). You might say I'm a storyteller.

Stereotypical drunk storytellin' Irishman. Go screw yerself. I've embraced this part of who I am. If you don't like it go read something else.

Needless to say, I always have a story to tell and libations to share.

Tonight was no exception.

As was walking home from tonight's Vine St. Celebration I was thinking about the fact that I had given, not one...not two...but three of my neighbors the link to my blog. I sure as shit hope I didn't talk shit about them anywhere down the line. Because...dude...if I did...clearly I didn't know how cool they were.

I know that now.

It's after 1...or almost 1AM.  Or will be by the time you read this (or I finish it)...in any event. It's about 2 hours later than I normall…

So...many of my close friends know how I feel about my previous job. I'm not going to get in to it here. I will say that I loved my customers. THEY were what made it difficult for me to leave my previous job.

I still have some friends that work there. Not many. I ran completely out of fucks to give by the time I was ready to put a feather on the 14 year cap that was that place.

So...funny thing happened today.

I went back.

No...not for good. And not for a job.  Actually a friend of mine still works there (or left and came back) and had some airshow tickets for me. I was to meet him at work (his work) and pick up the tickets.

I pulled in to the lot and let him know I was there. He said he was coming out. When he didn't, I texted back..."you're still in the same building, right?"

He laughed, via text. They were.

He came out a few minutes later. We caught up. Compared summer surgical scars and we talked about what makes a company a good place to work.  Apparently a…