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About Martin

I tried it once, swear to Christ. Down on Route 9, this chick, hands like a goddamn angel—or a devil, dependin’ how ya look at it. She’s kneadin’ me, and I’m like, “This is fuckin’ heaven,” but then—surprise!—it’s more than I bargained for. Got me thinkin’, “I’m not just a number here!”—like Tony in the movie, ya know, not *my* Tony, the other guy. Made me happy as hell, but pissed too, ‘cause I shelled out fifty extra bucks! Fifty! For what? A happy endin’? Fuckin’ robbery, but worth it, I ain’t gonna lie.

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But then, I see my ex. Ugh, why? Why today? She’s with some dude, and they look all lovey-dovey. I’m like, “Really? You couldn’t pick a better day?” So, I grab a giant pretzel to drown my sorrows. It’s huge! Like, bigger than my head. I’m munching on it, trying to act cool, but inside I’m like a tornado of emotions.