They Were Mercenaries Under Contract to Cheap Thrills

The mob was a thrifty lot. They didn’t get their rocks off unless there was going to be a landslide. They didn’t go for broke, they went for insolvency. They didn’t spill blood unless they were going to wash the streets with it, do the dishes with it, brush their teeth with it, pour it on their Wheaties– their Wheaties poured from a novelty oversized box from CostCo. That’s the kind of crowd this was. They took their thrills in bulk.

“Life is short,” they chanted. “You have to sweeten it through concentration.” They lived it like it was vanilla extract- sweet, sweet nectar, 90% alcohol. They lived it like it was cologne: a few fragrant ounces to cover the smoke of whole tens of years going up with the glory of roman candles bought by the shipping crate. Also 90% alcohol. They lived it like they could hardly stand up. They could hardly stand up.

Everything was shocking. Nothing was shocking. You couldn’t put anything past these rubes. They saw you coming- They saw you going. Occasionally you saw them going. On the sidewalk.

Forget double-fisting, they drank with their feet.

They lived fast- forget horse pills, they wanted cheetah pills.

They hung so loose they couldn’t tie their shoes.

Their double dates made Mormon Moonie weddings look like a fallout shelter under a battered woman’s halfway house. At the end of the world.

They were mercenaries under contract to cheap thrills- thrills so cheap, they’d go dutch twice in one date.

Their orgies ended at 2- why go all night long when they could get it done in half the time?

They didn’t drink like it was going out of style. The only drank when it was out of style.

Their ladies had been around the block more than once. Mostly in order to find an ATM to pay the cabbie.

They didn’t buy rounds of drinks, they bought crescents.

They lost their virginity on the way to the prom to save time.

The abducted my kid sister in Saskatoon, and by the time I caught up with them her hair had turned a premature off-white, old-ish before her years.

Talk was cheap, so they talked a lot- and that’s how they convinced my kid sis to ride with them- to give them a ride- to the next drinking establishment.

They were mercenaries under contract to cheap thrills. They answered to no one between the hours of 6 am and 9 pm.