Back in the saddle again
So it has been way to long since I have posted here. So much has been going on I don't even know where to start. Things have been hectic and crazy so all in all, status quo. I have started writing stories again and it actually seems to be sticking. Of course I am writing like three stories of varying topics, so it is all slow going at best. My wedding is on the horizon and while it isn't around the corner I know that if I take my eyes off it, it will be looming over me and i'll collapse like a bunch of broccoli. I'm not worried about getting married just the event itself and all the planning and organizing and worry of all the things that could go poorly. Mind you this energy is good for my writing. In fact I will be posting pieces to get public opinion. So please pull no punches and tell me what you really think. So without further ado here is the start of my superhero story
I did it again. Went out on a bender and awoke in the trash ridden alley of the city. I stumble out of the aroma of filth and cheap sex, my hands supporting me on the rough brick wall. I step out into the bright light of noon and wince. That’s what I get for celebrating the capture of a menace to society. No I’m not some flatfoot walking the streets for a wage. I’m not a government agent with a badge and a wire in my ear. I am a superhero. Ok, so super is only in my abilities beyond normal human scope and I am a hero because that is what I show to the public eye. To put it bluntly I choose to be a “hero” for the financial gain. So here I am after receiving my substantial share of the reward, hung-over and trying to remember where I am. Last thing I recall was bar hopping with a number of lovely ladies with their cheap perfume and revealing silk dresses. We’d order drink after drink and shot after shot. It’s good to be the “good” guy.
I did it again. Went out on a bender and awoke in the trash ridden alley of the city. I stumble out of the aroma of filth and cheap sex, my hands supporting me on the rough brick wall. I step out into the bright light of noon and wince. That’s what I get for celebrating the capture of a menace to society. No I’m not some flatfoot walking the streets for a wage. I’m not a government agent with a badge and a wire in my ear. I am a superhero. Ok, so super is only in my abilities beyond normal human scope and I am a hero because that is what I show to the public eye. To put it bluntly I choose to be a “hero” for the financial gain. So here I am after receiving my substantial share of the reward, hung-over and trying to remember where I am. Last thing I recall was bar hopping with a number of lovely ladies with their cheap perfume and revealing silk dresses. We’d order drink after drink and shot after shot. It’s good to be the “good” guy.