1 Unemployment

I was the black guy that turned out to be what his mother wanted. A white collar worker, behind a cubicle, accepting calls and everything you expect from a customer service supervisor. I was really proud that, really proud of that. I lost the job because I was smoking in a no smoking area, pretty fucking stupid, I knew it was Jeremy that redneck, inbred son of a sow, I thought I was definitely going to get my job back, but in reality the black guy doesn't really have the upper hand and Jeremy was the branch managers son sooo, I am really glad I paid my tax early I would have been fucked other wise.

I guess this is where my license as a tattoo artist comes in handy damnit. I never wanted to work the pen again but I guess a life I kept hidden will always have some importance. I wonder what my ma would think, 29 and jobless, fuck. A shower always feels so good when I'm frustrated. I dried myself, walked out of the tub and looked in the mirror.

My light brown eyes drift across my body my brown almost pimple-less skin, waved filled lowcut fade, eagle-eyed eyebrows, my medium length slightly crooked nose, my plump burgundy lips and my slightly oval face shape I guess I am a bit above average.

Well it was time to go back to my old job I hope Candy won't bitch about me ditching the shop five years ago. She can hold grudges as long as a crow, may the spirit be with me. I let out a deep sigh and walked out of my apartment and went to the ground floor. I stopped a cab.

"Where to passenger?" The driver said.

"The Ink Cirlce Shop, second raven street."

"Alrighty then." He replied.