By Karl Hame III, Special to The Brutal Times – When I get home from life on the road I don’ t want to talk to nobody and I just keep wishin’ I was back in ‘Nam.
Wait – no, that’s not it at all.
I’m a kids’ mom, and when I get home from school I’m too tired to cook.
I tried cooking one a those goddam so-called hard boiled eggs and I gave myself a scar I’ll never forget.
In the old days a scar like that would get you bumped from Economy up to First Class. On an aeroplane.
Cooking requires time and concentration I just don’t have, mate.
The big question is how without cooking one is to feed oneself.
Or hisself or herself.
I don’t think about it. If I see food I grab it and stuff it in my mouth. No one owns food.
I guess you’d call me a foodie. But would you call it to my face? Could you tell my face from the rear of my head? From my efforts I’d say 50-50 you can’t.
God, I’m hungry.
heyyyy….what ever happened to this guy? is he dead? this kind of story got me going. now i’m all wound up. why not make it into a movie or something? answer me.