Knowing management has become suspicious of my long streak of Friday absences, I had every intention of showing up bright and early today, if only to quell the growing rumors of me being a world class goldbricker.


Unfortunately, being cursed with a name like Slack Slacker, no matter what you say to explain high absenteeism, low motivation and other underperformance issues, coworkers will always think the worse. So at the risk of proving them right, I beg of you to accept the following as God’s honest truth.
11:47 PM was showing on the clock over the bar at my favorite neighborhood spot on the upper West Side. It was exactly 13 minutes before Friday the 13th and I’d just tossed back my 13th shot of Tequila. Not being the superstitious type, I told my bud Slim Slimy to order the next round while I took a whiz in the boyz room. But for some odd reason, as I stood at the urinal draining the lizard, I knew I should be headed home just to be on the safe side. And I wasn’t back on the bar stool 2 minutes before I knew I was right. This Friday the 13th would not bring good luck.
hooker_beatdownAt the stroke of midnight, the doors to the joint swung open and entering the bar was Doobie, my estranged radicalized Yorkie with two burly crewcut military types in tow. This could only mean trouble and big trouble too because Doobie never knew any other kind. After selling the Clinton sex tape last week (to whom, I’m not at liberty to say), I couldn’t imagine what he could be up to so soon since he scored 7 figures for it. And if I was smart, I wouldn’t have asked. But if I was smart, I’d have left the bar after my tenth shot of tequila.
“So what’s up and who are your pals?” I ask. Doobie said the 7 figures he got had to be split so many ways, it wasn’t enough left to startup a franchise of whore houses he wanted to setup outside U.S. military bases around the world. It was his golden parachute he said. His two companions were members of the Israeli Defense Force interested in investing in the business plan but wanted another face to front the operation.

This I could understand, because Doobie was wanted by every law enforcement agency in the world and could be impossible to reach in an emergency. They said they originally wanted Snoop Dogg for the gig, but Doobie had shorted Snoop on the sale of a ton of black tar hash last year and the pissed off gansta pimp is still looking to settle the score.

Reading between the lines, what they really wanted was somebody they could get their hands on if Doobie skipped with their money. If I was smart, I wouldn’t have listened to another word. But if I was smart, I wouldn’t have had that eleventh shot of Tequila. “So where do I fit in?” I stupidly asked. “We just need someone to test the product and spread the word until we can find somebody else iike Snoop to take over”. Now if ever there was a gig a lifelong slacker could succeed at, it would be quality management in a business like this. This was the easiest job in the world.

It was then a healthy hipped honey with a husky voice came over and asked if we could spend some time together. If I was smart, I would’ve said thanks, but no thanks. But if I was smart, I wouldn’t have had that twelfth shot of Tequila. And with a name like Sleazy Easy, I should’ve followed my mind, but after thirteen shots of tequila, I can rarely trust my mind, so it was on.
I told Doobie and his “business partners” to pay off my tab and I’d be back after having a chance to ogle the merchandise. Stumbling out into the street with bloodshot eyes firmly fixed on Sleazy’s rear, she led me to the alley behind the bar and asked me if I was ready for the time of my life? If I was smart, I would’ve just said hell yeah. But if I was smart, I would’ve never had that last shot.
When she slammed me up against the wall getting ready to get busy, I asked Sleazy how much would I get paid to test the product.” I might not be smart, but I ain’t stupid.” “Doobie said this was a job and easy or not, I expect to be compensated.” Why I didn’t see the roundhouse punch coming is still a mystery, but when Sleazy’s angry fist found my jaw, it wasn’t even a nanosecond before the pavement came rushing up to meet my skull. And for what seemed like an eternity, the pounding, stomping and cursing continued. My last clear memory was of Sleazy calling me a dumb mother-fucker, as she rolled me for my wallet and cellphone. Talk about your misunderstandings!
When I finally made my way back into the spot, all battered and bloodied, looking for Doobie, an explanation and cab fare home, of course he was nowhere to be found. But his companions were sure there waiting for my return. As soon as they spotted me, they demanded $1,500 cash for services rendered. “WTF are you talking about?” I asked. “It’s obvious you like it rough and it’s obvious you got it rough” they said. “Now you pay,” they said. “I have no money,” I explained. “Sleazy robbed me”. Why I didn’t see their roundhouse punches coming was no mystery, because it was Friday the Thirteenth and I was shit out of luck. C-ya Monday