Well I just thought for a few minutes and remembered something I wanted to write about. It is kind of a part two to a previous blog. That blog was called, "It came through the window." That is why this blog received the same name but with a "2" after it. I am so clever. Okay . . . here it is.

Days after the Ninjas attacked the County Assistance Office . . . well first off let me say it is still not a confirmed ninja attack. They have not claimed responsibility and I have heard rumors from some local sources that this may have been an inside job.

I stay alert at work . . . people deserve food stamps, and if I am going to help these people get the tax money they sat around all day to get, I am going to have to get through this training. It is tough, my back hurts from the wall forcing me out of my seat and jarring loose an old back injury. The Mountain Dew is running low, I need a refill. I do not worry though. I was not the only victim besides "Maria". Four other trainees are also wounded. Not superficial wounds that heal over time but wounds which one cannot see, that one cannot understand. I am glad I am not alone in this time of welfare violence and my fellow classmates keep me company with their sorrow. I once again find myself glad, overwhelmed one might say . . . the lady sitting at the end of the row is claiming she received a concussion and has the paper work to back it up. If I was sitting over 15 feet away from the wall I too could have received a concussion. Someone or something is watching over my shoulder . . . it's my roommate. "Stop watching me you fucking perv!" I am back with a message for everyone. I need a new roommate and also please remember to sit as close to any accident you may be vulnerable to, accidents effect those who are the furthest away the most.

Class is over. Two more days pass. My back isn't getting any better. It's time to accept the facts and talk to Human Resources about my back . . . fucking workers compensation. I e-mail the man in charge of that department, "Jim, My back still hurts from the accident. Get me a doctor and make sure it isn't a ninja." I wait. No reply. WHAT'S THAT! I see the ape-man out of the corner of my eye again. He looks angry. I pull up my fists . . . I'm ready for whatever he has in store for me. I know I can take him. But at last it is just T-bag. He is upset that he has to use his personal days for the doctor visits he has been receiving lately. I would be too . . . fucking commie state system. I look down . . . I have a new e-mail. "Derrick, I can send you to a doctor and I don't know what you are talking about ninjas for." I know he's in on it, Human Resources is always in on it.

I get the needed paper work and head out of the office to my brand new Subaru. It is a little dirty and needs some gas but I need to get to the doctors early and scout the place out. On the road now and listening to the new CD by Fall of Troy, it's a good CD, it relaxes my mind.

The 15 year old nurse leads me into a room with fake wood panels on the wall. "Wait here," she says. What choice do I have? So I start looking around for magazines, there are none but there are 3-D image pictures on the wall. I walk over to them and try and figure out what the image trickery has in store for me. Focus harder I tell myself . . . there might be a hidden image, a map to the beyond. Then I see it . . . a fucking football player. That's enough of that gayness, so I sit down and wait. 20 minutes pass and the doctor arrives followed closely by the stench of body odor. I scan the room for a hoagie. There isn't one anywhere to be seen. This doctor smells and I don't want his opinion. How am I supposed to take this guy serious if he cannot even put some deodorant on. Really though, that wasn't the worst part. This so called doctor has a gray mini afro and I am guessing he just came from making a porn. I take my chances with Dr. Hoagie and let him examine my back. This isn't the end; but only the beginning.