Today’s Words:
probation officer
plump oneself
dim
domicile
opiate
Post-purchase rationalization
groom

Jim hated being a probation officer. If he had ever imagined a career for himself as a child, he was sure it wasn’t this. Perhaps he had wanted to be a travelling carnival hand, or a backup musician for Sting. Perhaps he had wanted to go to the moon. He couldn’t remember on account of the bump to the head on this 15th birthday which erased all his childhood memories. But he wasn’t about to delude himself, like a  post-purchase rationalization, fancying that he might have wanted to grow up and be a cop and thus he had arrived. If he had any hope of self-respect, he couldn’t entertain the idea that he had been born with such meager dreams. If all had to plump himself was an imaginary childhood full of eager striving and grand aspirations, he would take it.

The perp sitting in front of him had been involved in a disturbance-of-the-peace which involved selling opiates out of her domicile – a cardboard box located (usually), just a few yards south of the intersection of 25th and Lincoln. She seemed wittier than his usual dim convicts, their brains smashed against the stone walls by other inmates one too many times in their incessent brawling. He supposed that inmates had nothing much else to occupy their time (unless they found God).

* * *

That’s all I have in me. A fragment of a story that I could groom on later occassion but probably won’t. Now needs must nap.