Chesdale Cheese.

I was trying to get my papers together to renew my New Zealand working visa. The tax department decided to audit me before they gave me another visa, and it was a real pain. The stack of papers that I had to fill in was huge. In one section they needed to know the job descriptions of two people that I knew. It said it didn’t matter what the job was, so I used Amiria’s dope dealing. When they sent the papers back, there was a list of things that I needed to change. It said that I didn’t have enough information about Amiria’s “occupation”. It was asking, How much dope does she sell? What types of drugs? How many holidays does she get? What is her net income?

I decided just to change the person to somebody easier. I picked Andrew A. I went around to see him at his home in Florida. It was pouring with rain and my documents were getting wet. We walked around until we found a squatters house to sit and talk in. It was tiny; it felt like we were in a doll’s house. I asked him how many holidays he gets. “Only four weeks left this year,” he sobbed, “they took the others away from me.” A gangster threw some drugs in the window. I threw them out again and said that we don’t sell or buy, we’re just talking about New World.

Andrew’s dad was singing a nonsense song about New World to the tune of the Chesdale cheese jingle. I added a verse about key limes. “Mmmm… a key lime certainly would key lime the taste right now,” he said. I walked out onto the sea-wall. He told me to watch out for whales and tsunamis.