The Devil I Know

August 8, 2008 at 1:56 AM | Posted in Riding In Cars With Pizza | Leave a comment
I sat and pondered at my plight
I only want to do what’s right
But what is the thing, that’s the question: to see
How can I know what is and what should never be?
The glory of the spreadsheet lay before
And the data danced like a naked whore
Twould seem the decision was more than fate
How else could it be something I hate?
The problem was money-it always is
So tell me the answer to this quiz:
I deliver pizza and make some cash
And put it back in the tank as gas
Some nights are good and some are bad
Good tipping seems to be a fad
It comes and goes and comes and goes
Lately it’s gone, and thus my woes
I need steady, more reliable cash
And less reinvestment into unleaded gas
No longer at Scooters; I miss it, I guess
Everything but the heat, I must confess
Although it was a great way to lose some weight
Dying in that sauna might have been my fate.
But they closed it, and it shook me, to the core
The doors closed and the raven quoth, "Nevermore!"
Nevermore as well, would my bills get paid
And my good credit, like a memory, was about to fade
The pickings for food were soon to turn quite lean
The cupboards are barren and the shelves are clean
It seems in this day one job is not enough
And what do you do when things get tough?
I found another job but they quickly closed
Another example that it just goes to show
Again I turn to Domino’s, for more driving hours
I deliver in the hot sun and in hot summer showers
But the cash is not forthcoming in the manner it should
I fall further behind, wishing "if only I could–"
I’d like to win the lottery, but chances are not great
If I bought a ticket, perhaps I could beat fate
Or just find a bag of money, laying in the street
I think something like that would be pretty neat
Back here in the real world, I seek some resolution
I came up with something that resembles a solution
Cringing at the thought, and the words tie up my tongue
I make an offer to Domino’s, like my firstborn young
As long as I don’t think too much it only hurts a little
Knees and back, plus migraine, nervous tick and spittle
The answer comes back from high above, noddingly approved
My request for hourly pay and a promise not to move–

And so here I am, behind the counter, making pies again.
I swore I’d never do it, but that was way back when
Call me an assistant at least in the nominal sense
For I’d like to think that I still can ride the fence
Between giving in completely to the sauce within my veins
And the management career that is the bane of all my banes
I had many reasons con, and many reasons pro
And many reasons that made think I just don’t know.
Much less driving in the truck and a steady stream of cash
The reasons were logical, I just hope it wasn’t rash.
I have another backup plan if this doesn’t work out
Something else to match the meager skills I tout.
I didn’t want to do this, but only time will show.
At the very, very least, it is the devil that I know.

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