Gotta get another pack of smokes, a 16 oz. of something strong and carbonated.
Gotta get a haircut, maybe not off, but definitely shorter.
Gotta get in the car and get to work. Oh lord.
Gotta get there, work, leave, and do it again, and again, and again.
Gotta get the book sold, and finish writing the other one.
Gotta get to the post office (if she even gives a shit).
Gotta keep his biggest fan.
Gotta get his chest right.
Gotta keep his heart beat steady.
Gotta keep his nerves in check.
Gotta get in the car and get to work. Great.
Gotta stand there smoking before the shift.
Gotta get home, for coffee and food.
Gotta get to his place of peace, his getaway, his parkside paradise with the morning sun, and the crisp cool air. It was all just for him.
Gotta stay there. Away from the demons away from the world, away from the trouble he caused the sweet girl.
Gotta get out the house, and get somewhere else.
Gotta get the book sold, and get the cabin in the winter woods.
Get a real fire burning and cup-a-joe, writing all the winter would be the only thing he'd know.
Gotta get his mind right, and apply it everywhere.
Niece and Nephew.
Under his thumb.
Gotta get in the car, and get to work.