40oz kind of day

 My homie kyle,  my girls little brother,  is finally home from Winfield state correctional facility.  I had just got off work at McD's,  which happens to be the greyhound station as well,  when I saw him get off the bus just after one am.

I'm happy he's home,  but I feel guilt gnawing at me as well.  Kyle had his head on straight while he was inside,  but coming home to find his best friend spun out,  along with everyone else he knows put him face to face with temptation.  

Two days since he got out and he's already slamming dope and hustling with me.  He's mainly crashing with me and Gina,  which takes some of the weight off my shoulders.  And it's good to have him home,  I missed the Lil Fucker.

I made up some shit about having to take the kid to the er so I could get out of work last night,  and I dunno if I work tonight or if I even still have a job.  I figure if they call me Ill act like I thought I was off today and get there as soon as I can.

Hopefully I still have my job,  I can't afford to be unemployed.  Not with four kids and there ma to support,  and this towns to hot to rely solely on thuggin to pay the bills.  

Not much I can do at the moment,  so I guess I'll hit up a couple more people,  see if anyone wants some shit,  and keep on drinking my 40oz.