Part III

This is my work. This is what I do to put food in front of me. And, of course, it would have to be done in New York City, 'cause any other city wouldn't do me justice. 

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When I was a kid my mother used to tell me that I could be anything I wanted. Little did I know all parents did that. It's almost like I could have had anyone's mother and it would have made no difference. I never held it against her, the lying I mean. I assume it was all out of good intention, but I would rather her tell me that I could not be whatever I wanted, because the world does not bend over and just wait for you to fuck it. It's not her fault though. I mean I wouldn't know, I don't have kids. We used to joke about how I would be all the things kids usually want to be. Things like a firefighter, or a policeman, or even a politician, but I never thought I would end up here. I've always had a knack for investigating. I remember, on Easter, my brother would get mad at me because I would always find all the eggs before him. So naturally I wound up here. 

I used to drink myself stupid and wonder what it would be like if I had been good at something else, something like fixing the stove or cleaning up when we took the Christmas tree out. I probably would be working for Maytag if that were the case, just 'cause there is no Santa. Maybe things worked out for the best, but I wouldn't know.