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Steve Likes to Curse
Writing, comics and random thoughts from really a rather vulgar man
Two voices 
Saturday, October 11th, 2008 | 11:38 pm [fiction, random, writing]
“Why do guys grow those little chin beards like that?”

“He looks like a beatnik.”

“Or, like . . . an Egyptian king. Look, they’ve both got it, the pitcher and the batter. What is with that?”

“Why not just grow a beard?”

“Even a goatee would look better than that, and I hate to say it. Pharaoh. That’s the word I was trying to think of.”

“Oh. Yeah, right. . . . Who you pulling for?”

“I dunno. Hard to root against the Devil Rays, I guess.”

“Yeah, that’s a hell of a thing, isn’t it? But they’re the Rays now, you know.”

“Do what?”

“Just the Rays now.”

“Not the Devil Rays? When did that happen?”

“Just this year.”

“No shit. I wonder why.”

“I don’t know. This woman I work with says the reason they had such a great year this year is because they dropped the ‘Devil’ out of their name.”

“Right, that must be it.”

“She also says that they ought to rename Devil’s Backbone to Jesus’s Backbone.”

“That wouldn’t make any sense at all.”

“She said it.”

“She knows they named it Devil’s Backbone because it’s all twisted and rocky and shit, right?”

“I don’t know. She must not.”

“It’s meant to be descriptive, not as a dedication of that part of the creek to Satan.”

“I’ll mention that to her next time I see her.”

“Ugh. Jesus fucking Christ.”



“What’s the matter?”

“Like drinking fucking tar.”

“What, all of a sudden? You’ve been sitting there drinking the same cup since I walked in here.”

“I know. It’s getting cold. I’ll never understand how people can drink cold coffee.”

“Ask for a warm-up.”

“I’m gonna, he ever gets his ass over here.”

“You just in to watch the game?”

“Huh? Oh. No, I’m meeting Terry tonight. Supposed to be here around eleven. What time is it?”

“It’s 11:25.”

“Fucking late. . . . What brings you out here so late?”

“I . . . No, nevermind.”

“Fuck nevermind. What is it?”

“I had something to ask you, but I’ll . . . some other time.”

“Ask me what?”

“No, no. I was hoping I’d catch you a little drunker than this.”

“Oh, I’m pretty drunk, I can assure you. I only switched off to coffee for a little while. I was tying one on pretty good earlier.”

“I was wondering if you could loan me some money. Just a little, just for a few weeks and I can pay you back.”

“Aw, man. No, I can’t do that.”

“Why not? You don’t think I’m good for it? I swear, I’d pay you back in just a couple weeks. A month at the longest.”

“No, it ain’t that. I don’t have the money.”

“What do you mean? Where’d all your money go? I thought you just got that big settlement.”

“I did. I spent it already.”

“What the hell did you spend that much money on?”

“Aw, you wouldn’t be interested.”

“No, I am. What, did you buy a new car or something? I thought I saw your same old Dodge parked out there.”

“I didn’t buy a new car.”

“What, then?”

“Got myself a DNA profile.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“This company, you give them a sample of your DNA — like a piece of hair, you know? — and they run your DNA and tell you where in the world all your ancestors came from.”

“They can do that?”

“Oh fuck yeah, man. You remember Bill Clinton giving that speech about that Human Genome Project like ten years ago or something? That’s what all that was about.”

“No kiddin’.”

“I mean, I think so.”

“How much did that cost?”

“Like five thousand.”


“Yeah. Total waste of money, too. It told me that like two thirds of my ancestry is from Germany. I knew that shit already.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, one of my great-grandfathers was like a fucking Nazi or something.”

“What, like in the Holocaust or something?”

“I’m not sure what all he did, but yeah. He must’ve done some pretty bad shit, because he had to leave the country to keep from getting executed.”


“Yeah. He’s buried down in fucking Argentina somewhere.”

“That’s pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah, I guess. I mean, I never met the guy, so . . .”

“Right. . . . These fucking commercials.”

“I know. What are they even trying to get you to buy with this one?”

“You can’t even tell.”
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