[Psyche Scenage]: A Lion in my Pocket, pt. 1
New Year's day, and I almost hit some fucker in the street. Me being me, I picked him up.
The motherfuckin spook was bleeding on my leather interior.
Since it was New Year's Eve, I was just a little drunk, and I was trying real fuckin hard not to be fuckin aggro at the skinny fuck, since he was shot fulla holes and I’d kinda almost hit him with my car. But something told me that I fuckin needed to open my Eyes when he tripped out into the cross walk at my green light, and there he was blazin’ Awake with his soul snappin its little chords and trying to run, like it could hear the song on my system -
“Yeah, everybody's got a bomb,
we could all die any day
But before I'll let that happen,
I'll dance my life away...”
Well you know me - I couldn’t just let the fucker die on the street. Especially since he was full Awake and, something else told me, he was prolly in the middle of the worst Will trip a Mage will ever have and really would die on the street if I didn’t fuckin do something.
But he was fuckin bleeding on my leather. Eh. I drive fucking fast, so I drove fucking fast, turning my twingey nerves on as high as they could go and singing at the top of my lungs - he wasn’t gonna remember it anyway. I’d already called my pal the EMT to meet me at my place. Turns out, that shit was a good fuckin idea, cause as soon as I get him home and out of the car, he’s fuckin speakin in tongues and flailin around, weak as a punk ass juicer. I can See his soul tuggin at that last fuckin threat, and I’m like I’ll be fucked backwards by a fat, ugly fuckin Mets fan before this fucker dies on me. I’d hardly gotten him onto the linoleum before I fuckin heard that last thread snap.
Oh, fuck no. I didn’t have any Life at the time, though you better fucking believe that shit was about to change, so all I could do was mouth-to-fucking-mouth. That’s when I noticed he was fuckin hot. Covered in blood, bits of flesh missing, and lacking a soul - still one hot ass fuckin nigga. And I don't usually do in for black guys.
Well, shit. Thanks for that, Death. Cocksmoker had to know I’d work all the fuckin harder.
So I’m blowin and pressin and blowin and pressin and finally the fucker coughs blood all over my face, but that’s alright cause he’s fuckin breathing again and he opens his eyes and fuckin looks at me and says something about me having some fuck named Ghede’s eyes, and I swear, Jesus fuckin Christ, one of his eyes was fucking changing colour. Thank fucking God he shut ‘em, right before Eric beat down the door, patched him up, jumped my shit for not taking him to a hospital, and left.
And then the skinny bitch slept in my bed for two whole fuckin days. Three cheers for the wallet and the nice crisp Gs-worth of bills I rolled him for. Gabriel Legend, his DL said, and with the cash and the holes, it sure looked like he had some boyos after him. That’s when I knew I’d keep him around, cause it would be too fuckin much jazz for them boyos to come looking for him at my place.
So, Mr. Legend. Welcome to the Waking world, and thanks for the tip.
The motherfuckin spook was bleeding on my leather interior.
Since it was New Year's Eve, I was just a little drunk, and I was trying real fuckin hard not to be fuckin aggro at the skinny fuck, since he was shot fulla holes and I’d kinda almost hit him with my car. But something told me that I fuckin needed to open my Eyes when he tripped out into the cross walk at my green light, and there he was blazin’ Awake with his soul snappin its little chords and trying to run, like it could hear the song on my system -
“Yeah, everybody's got a bomb,
we could all die any day
But before I'll let that happen,
I'll dance my life away...”
Well you know me - I couldn’t just let the fucker die on the street. Especially since he was full Awake and, something else told me, he was prolly in the middle of the worst Will trip a Mage will ever have and really would die on the street if I didn’t fuckin do something.
But he was fuckin bleeding on my leather. Eh. I drive fucking fast, so I drove fucking fast, turning my twingey nerves on as high as they could go and singing at the top of my lungs - he wasn’t gonna remember it anyway. I’d already called my pal the EMT to meet me at my place. Turns out, that shit was a good fuckin idea, cause as soon as I get him home and out of the car, he’s fuckin speakin in tongues and flailin around, weak as a punk ass juicer. I can See his soul tuggin at that last fuckin threat, and I’m like I’ll be fucked backwards by a fat, ugly fuckin Mets fan before this fucker dies on me. I’d hardly gotten him onto the linoleum before I fuckin heard that last thread snap.
Oh, fuck no. I didn’t have any Life at the time, though you better fucking believe that shit was about to change, so all I could do was mouth-to-fucking-mouth. That’s when I noticed he was fuckin hot. Covered in blood, bits of flesh missing, and lacking a soul - still one hot ass fuckin nigga. And I don't usually do in for black guys.
Well, shit. Thanks for that, Death. Cocksmoker had to know I’d work all the fuckin harder.
So I’m blowin and pressin and blowin and pressin and finally the fucker coughs blood all over my face, but that’s alright cause he’s fuckin breathing again and he opens his eyes and fuckin looks at me and says something about me having some fuck named Ghede’s eyes, and I swear, Jesus fuckin Christ, one of his eyes was fucking changing colour. Thank fucking God he shut ‘em, right before Eric beat down the door, patched him up, jumped my shit for not taking him to a hospital, and left.
And then the skinny bitch slept in my bed for two whole fuckin days. Three cheers for the wallet and the nice crisp Gs-worth of bills I rolled him for. Gabriel Legend, his DL said, and with the cash and the holes, it sure looked like he had some boyos after him. That’s when I knew I’d keep him around, cause it would be too fuckin much jazz for them boyos to come looking for him at my place.
So, Mr. Legend. Welcome to the Waking world, and thanks for the tip.