Flat Tire

i work with two rap­pers. this is com­plete­ly unforseen, but i sup­pose not unwel­come. Augy is the dri­ver, and his rap name is A.U.G. for Always Under­ground game. he is a big­ger dude, about my height but maybe a deuce and a quar­ter. he’s pret­ty qui­et and shy unless you joke around enough and talk about the sales man­ag­er.

Chango is the night dupli­ca­tor, my replace­ment in the after­noons. Appar­ent­ly Chango means ‘baby goril­la’ in Span­ish — a nick­name from his child­hood. Now it is his rap name. A.U.G. and Chango have song called Under­ground Thugz. I heard it today. I’ve only seen Chango once, on my first day. Despite the fact that he has worked at this place for approx­i­mate­ly four and a half years, he still doesn’t know how to do cer­tain basic tasks like box­ing, label­ing, or even doing dou­ble pass­es on espe­cial­ly large orders. Lots of inter­est­ing things seem to hap­pen to Chango. Fri­day was an espe­cial­ly nice day in the upper 60s and thought this has no obvi­ous cor­re­la­tion to the fact that he called in sick with a twist­ed ankle, the dupli­ca­tor i am replac­ing seemed to think dif­fer­ent­ly. Today Chango called in to say he was going to be late because he had a flat tire in Paineville. per­haps this is a metaphor for his alleged swollen ankle, or per­haps it is true, i don’t know him well enough to judge. At this rate, I nev­er well. Chango has a lot of flat tires.

crash poem.

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