Tomorrow

by Eric Hill


The fucking hippies next door were driving dude nutso. With their guitar circles, bongos, were they bongos? Yea. And those ridiculous fucking circular things they shake that have the bells and shit on them. Do they actually think that shit is music? Unbelievable. The one guy has a beard down to his waist, skinny fucker with a bald head. Likely a premie baby - now he works 9 hours a week and spends the rest of his time smoking cigarettes and drinking PBR while telling the next nearest asshole his views on American consumerism. How fucked up it is we value arbitrary shit like brand names and vehicles and how much better off we’d all be if we’d only stop and play some music.


Meanwhile dude sits in his room, bored, thinking about all the shit he could and should do but likely won’t. Always thinking about it, though. He’ll read, he’ll write, he’ll hunker down and really just fucking commit to it. But it’s KIND OF FUCKING HARD TO CONCENTRATE WHEN YOU GOT CAPTAIN WOODSTOCK AND COMPANY CLAPPING AND SINGING AND SHIT OUTSIDE YOUR WINDOW. So he stops, how could he continue? It’s unimaginable. Dude can't possibly be expected to produce anything of value with this shit going on. That’s just one excuse, though, out of what seems an abyss of reasons to fill the day with nothingness. For every ingenious plan crafted there are two reasons not to follow through. There’s no way around it, and this is the shit that gets dude really irked.


Schools out and works slow, hours once dreaded are hours now missed. Boredom leads to frequent bursts of inspiration, some genius idea to do this and that or that and help people. Tomorrow dudes going to wake up and find a cause to get behind, something to promote, help, preach to anyone there to listen, willing or not, about how fucked up it is that in this country shit like that still goes on. And if motherfuckers would just wake the fuck up and start giving a shit all this could be solved. That’s what he’ll do tomorrow though, tonight it’s getting late and what could possibly be accomplished at such an hour?


Morning now and it’s looking to be quite the good one! The sun’s on its way up and the birds are absolutely ecstatic. Dude smacks on the TV, morning news and whatever, sees that aint shit happened since yesterday and decides that’s probably a good thing. Today’s the day, no more tomorrow bullshit when he’ll have all shitloads of time to be productive as all fuck. Definitely. He’ll wake up tomorrow before the sun’s got the birds all euphoric and get the freshest fucking start imaginable and things will get real serious, names will be taken, bags will be checked, and dude’s world will begin to change.

Yeah, tomorrow will be excellent.