I Would Recognize That Curve Anywhere

  It would seem that the paperboy my parents had when I was a kid has come back as a 60 year old menace to the newpaper reading society in my neck of the woods.  This moron cannot manage to throw a little newspaper onto my twenty foot wide drive from six feet away!  He's managed to hit the shrubs that line part of the yard, and he's managed to zing it in the yard twenty feet off of the drive.  I'm bitching because one, he's apparently too lazy to make a decent attempt to hit the drive and two, the newspaper gets soaked far worse in a rain while sitting in the yard or under some bushes even in the plastic wrapper it comes in.

  Our old paperboy, the one we had when I was growing up, was a big kid.  He was probably twelve years old and had a neat Schwinn bicycle that I wanted.  That son of a bitch could throw a newspaper clear over our two story house and into the back yard, and that asshole did--a lot!  He also would throw the paper at a faster than normal velocity.  He'd broken several windows in the 'hood trying to hit a porch or door instead of the drive.  He was basically a fucking fruitcake with a shitty attitude.  Goofy!  I remember that about him...

  The one we have now has got to be the same guy...must be.  He'll hum that damn paper into a puddle of water forty feet from the street or onto the garage roof from thirty feet away, but he just won't chunk it in the fucking driveway!  I don't get... He has that great arm though.  I'd recognize that damn throwing arm anywhere.  One of these days I'm going to see that clown make his "pass" by my crib and stop him.  I'll ask him if his name is Johnny "Boy" Baker, and if he says that it is, I've got his number!  Surprise, surprise.

  Geez, some things just never, ever change.  I never thought that my parent's old paper boy could come back to haunt and taunt me with his deadly aim and propensity to piss me off with his lack of newspaper delivery skills.  Of course, I'm sure it's not the same guy, but it is a great reminder of Johnny Boy and the time he actually stood next to his bicycle and hummed his newspaper straight down into the chimney on my next door neighbor's house.  Amazing!  It's time to dry out the fucking paper...Don.