All Hope Is Not Lost

Last night sitting on the stoop of my building two gay crossed the street to see if I was interested. One's shirt even said "Wanna Cluck?" with a picture of a compromised chicken. Sure, they made the pretenses of conversation, but I knew what was up.

When the gays stop hitting on you, that's when you know you have no chance, not even if you pay.

Of course that was yesterday. Tomorrow's a different day. It would be foolish to think it will be better. Studies prove that pessimists can predict the future more accurately. And all I ever wanted was to be right.