Author: Ron Riekki

It gets old.  I’m going to kill you.It gets old.  They don’t kill me.I get old.  And older.  All thesecrap coffee jobs, jobs where I drivewhen there’s no traffic, allapocalyptic, getting there when the moon is still making outwith the fence.  And then thesecoworkers who tell me if I ever saythat again, I’ll find myself…