Pager Boy
by James MacLaren
What’s up with them fucking pagers anyway? Aren’t there already enough people out there trying to stick their thumbs up your asshole?
I guess not.
Pager Boy wants to be cool. He’s watched just a tad too much MTV and has decided that cool people wear pagers and are constantly bombarded by no end of Very Important Messages. Apparently, it’s the drug dealers hanging out on the corner, listening to some hideous rap music, waiting for the next sucker’s call that are the cool people.
Go figure.
And so Pager Boy falls right in line. Group Individuality. What a concept!
Nevermind that he’s incapable of putting a proper drug deal together. And doesn’t have the money to do it with anyway. And has to ride around in the back of his buddy’s rusted out Datsun pick up truck in the cold ‘cause he ain’t got his own car. And has exactly nowhere to go and nothing worth doing to do. And looks and acts like the complete goof that he is.
Don’t matter.
Oh! It’s another page! Dial the number. It’s Darrell Dork. “Whatcha doing.” “Just chillin man.” “That’s cool.” “What’s happening?” “Nothin.” “Let’s go hang out at the 7 Eleven.” “Ok.”
Boy oh boy! Life in the fast lane! Fasten your seatbelts!
Fuck off, asshole.
