Space Cowboy

{Jeff Labar, 85}

Fred, Eric and i were sitting in the backroom after a day of developing what seemed to be an endless amount of photos. i had Amber to ask for a ride home, only to be ignored. Amber was more concerned with selecting our wedding cake rather than making sure the groom arrives home. Tom wasn't at work today; he mentioned something about Kayla being sick and picking up a camera-whatever that is supposed to mean.

"Well, it looks like Cheyenne is in another pissy mood today." Eric said, walking into the break room from making a call to his girlfriend. "What for?" Fred asked. i don't understand how Eric can make Cheyenne so pissy. i have spent countless hours with Cheyenne, never making her pissy in any sort of way. "i have no clue. all i did was call to tell her that i would be home soon and she started yelling at me about some dumb book she is reading." oh my. Cheyenne and her Steven King books... if we are in any type of situation relatively close to that in a book she has read, she is convinced that we are gonna die. i mean- it's cute the first four times, but upon the fifth i want to strangle her. "Yeah, it was something about taking a shortcut through the woods.." oh, classic. "Eric, you can quit talking about Cheyenne." Fred said. "Why? did you wake up handcuffed to your bed post again?" now, what i don't understand about Fred is- how can he make the mistake of sleeping with the same money taking prostitute more than once? "No! i just don't want to hear you complain, that's all." "Who is complaining?" I'm starting to think that Fred is the one in a pissy mood. "Everyone needs to stop talking about their problems," before finishing, Fred punched Eric's forearm. "if anyone starts talking about their problems, i'm going to throw something. That time, i threw a fist." Fred is my ride home...