I’m tired. I’m tired.  There is a beautiful woman walking languidly across her yard, drink in hand, paperback and ipod in the other. The grass is neon green, wet with a sprinkle of city water. She’s making for the lounger sitting in the mid-june sunshine. You can count the freckles on her ass it so white, so in need of the suns caress. I’ve been waiting here at my window for mostly an hour. My duct taped lazy boy swivvled around to face her a joining backyard.  Her breasts are what we like to call “perky” with a lift at the nipple, like fresh bread: new, risen and edible.  I wish I wasn’t so tired.

It had taken most of the night to unload the new shipments off the freight truck, lots of washers/dryers, high-end stainless steel, –heavy. Jimmy “The Can” had called in sick, so we were short two arms full of muscle. Jimmy wasn’t known for his brains, but brawn would’ve have made the truck easier.


questions:  who is this character? what is his weakness?  Does he bear any resemblance to the lead in the Marco Ferriri film: John Dillenger is dead?  Am I going to cut back and forth with the girl, will I surprise the audience with some revealing plot element involving her?  Is she his mistress, his wife, his mother? Where is Jimmy the can?  Why is he called the can? Why is he tired?