It’s 10 or 11 PM here in Carbondale. I told you last time that I work in a steel mill, I guess. Yeah sure, great fucking job. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Gunny. I’m not a writer, so forgive me if this sucks.

My friend Aggro P up in Oregon said I should post some stories here from time to time on his friend’s web site. I asked him what to write, and he said just whatever I want. Crap. That’s all it is. Maybe talking about it will help my life improve, but unless it comes with free whiskey, I doubt it.

What to write, I asked: “You mean like when Jesus got scalped by a drill press?”
I was just kidding, but his laughter on the phone suggested that might be appropriate.

P said “Yeah, actually that sounds perfect.”

So thank you, Dr. Kronski, for allowing me to express some feelings on your site. Sorry if I am not as intellectual as you and your kind readers. All I give a shit about is reading and making enough money for Jack Daniel’s. If it weren’t for the liquor, I’d be a bum. That’s the only reason I even work. Fuck, the JD is the only reason I’m not dead right now.

I worked today, same as every day, at Union Steel. Jesus Christ, it’s monotonous, take the piece, slide it through the machine, watch the steel spurs and slivers fly out onto the floor, and send it on down to the polisher’s bin. Same goddamn thing every day. Thirty pieces an hour. No more, no less. You do any better, and they’ll expect that every time. It takes me 2400 pieces a day. Four Winstons, one sandwich, two Cokes, three pisses and a cup of coffee to get through it. The thought of that Jack Daniel’s under the front seat of my pick up is what gets me though it.

Before you judge me- let me ask you- ever met Ray Skrup? Well if you know Ray, you know how he gets through his shift each day. Thaaaaaat’s right, shooting meth every day in the parking lot. Now that ol’ JD doesn’t seem so bad does it?


Courtesy of Ralph "Gunny" Gunderson, Union Steel Works, Carbondale, CA.