On The Way To The Super Bowl

I dropped my Chapstick while driving yesterday.

The little bastard rolled under the seat and since I’m not Stretch Armstrong, I couldn’t get my mitts on it.

Before going to my sister’s house today to watch the Super Bowl, I got down on my knees and attempted to fish out the balm. Not only did I find it, I found another.

It must have been my dad’s.

He probably dropped it years ago.

I just stared at it for awhile. Although I drive his car, wear his jacket and listen to his albums, I couldn’t bring myself to touch it.

And now here I am, pretending to watch a fucking football game.

What does it all mean?

Honestly, I’m sick of asking.

So I’m just going to sit here, try to smile, and have a slice of pizza for my dad.

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