Family Guy

Sitting on a dirty sofa across from a dirty dog and an even dirtier friend. I smell the chicken cooking outside. On sale 67 cents per pound. Only a bit longer til it’s done. My mouth begins to water as I wait for my dinner and the dog stares at me with a look of longing. He knows who is in control of his immediate destiny.

Yeah I guess I do too.

“Family guy is on at 11,” Scott says to me smiling through a thick brown tangle of overgrown beard.
Family Guy the staple background programming for more than one of the postcollegiate halfway-houses I have been frequenting the past month. I know where I stay tonight, more importantly where will I stay tommorrow

“Chickens done.”

“Lucky is the family guy…”

One Response to “Family Guy”

  1. Shuler Says:

    I feel like I was living in a postcollegiate halfway house when I was in college. Oh the wondering couch surfer, my how the roles have changed. We miss ya down here man.

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