Tonight I delivered a pizza to the apartment building on Lake St. right next to the railroad tracks. Keep in mind that this building is probably the shittiest place one could possibly live in Grayslake. When I arrived, the outer door was locked, so I tried buzzing the buzzer, but it was broken. I called the phone number on the receipt, and this guy answered. He was confused at first, but then realized what was going on. He lived on the first floor and came to open the outer door for me. He pointed upstairs and said to knock on apartment 2A. It looked as if the people from upstairs used the guys phone to order the pizza because they did not have a phone of their own. When they answered their door there was a scrawny dirty lady, probably in her 30's. The apartment was dark and smelled of cat piss and marijuana. There was also a kid, probably about 8 or 9 years old with short hair and a tail about 4 or 5 inches long on the back of his head. You know, the kind of hair we had in the late 80's and early 90's. The woman (probably his mom) told her son, in a depressed voice, to give me the money for the pizza which was massively discounted. With a 1 dollar tip I was on my way.

It made me kind of sad for the kid. What kind of future do you think he has living with a broke crack-whore mom in a dirty apartment with no phone, possibly no electricity, exposed to drugs and wears a hair style kids stopped wearing 14 years ago? It makes me wonder.