Got a total fan on now because it’s Saturday. Drank too many Bud Light Limes and got a acid hole in my throat because I didn’t have any water. Ate a sandwich without any stuffing because I didn’t leave any tip. It was a sandwich stand within a bar. Normally at a sandwich stand you don’t tip the guy. But then the guy gave me a sandwich that had almost nothing but bread and I thought to myself that I had exact change to blame. In the guy’s defense it was a squash blossom sandwich so probably my own fault. I had to experiment. I thought the blossom would improve my health. I’d had grilled cheese there twice without problems. Although they pour massive old fashioneds. That could’ve been part of the acid hole in my throat. Maybe the explicit texts. About going down, etc. I sent a picture of my shorts. Fully Clothed Crotch Shot. I know I know, everyone says no guy looks too good in shorts. I got cool shorts though. I know this and I went to bed confidently but of course alone. I woke up and the hole in my throat surprised me. I turned on the AC but then turned it off. I kept going, “cah cah cah!!!” Like I could cough the hole out. I had water and the water felt good but even that can’t solve everything. I turned off the AC. Having the AC on didn’t feel bad. But I’d pulled the blanket over me, and then thought it’d be better to turn off the AC and sleep with no blanket. That’s what guilt’s like. In time of course the hole went away. Now I can smoke cigarettes again which is nice. For a while there they were hurting. Got to build back up to them slowly. Got to improve my tolerance. Got to negate all these problems.
Tom Dibblee is Trop’s editor. His fiction has appeared in Glimmer Train and his nonfiction has appeared in Pacific Standard, the Los Angeles Review of Books, and the Point. He lives in Los Angeles.