i went home for christmas and all i got was a 6 pack of beer
WHO: An Aussie, A Swiss and A Kiwi (delicious~)
WHEN: February 10th, Wednesday night
WHERE: Some piss poor street curb
WHAT: Logan hitchhiked his way back to his new home, Liberty City, and the first thing he wants is a beer.
It was something Logan was not very familiar with and he wasn't quite sure if he was ever acquainted with it. He knew it was a different type of feeling from what he was used to but this was the strange kind he couldn't just walk off. Physical pain Logan understood very well. He's been through the worst of physical pain, from breaking several bones in his body to almost bleeding to death, so him and pain had developed a pretty steady friendship. Pain gave Logan the rush of being alive and gave him the opportunity to dominate it, overcome pain in order to do greater things.
However, this different type of pain had no visible bruises or cuts which Logan could just patch up and forget about. It was an emotional pain Logan couldn't ignore until it healed.
And he hated it (which itself was knew to him becuase Logan didn't hate many things and when he did, it was mild and easily overlooked).
He took a lazy sip of his beer, the burning warmth it sent through his body gave no consolation to the bitter cold lump he felt at the pit of his stomach. A six pack of bottled beer lay beside him on the curb, two of the three bottles missing lay abandoned at his feet. He hadn't gone home yet and still had his travel bag slung over his shoulder, still wore the same worn out clothes since he left Brisbane.
Ah, Brisbane, once a beautiful city, now only brought a bitter taste to his mouth and a burn in the back of his eyes whenever he thought about it.
He was born there, born into what he (foolishly) thought was a loving home. But he was very wrong.
He didn't even spend more than five minutes in his childhood home before his parents told him they never wanted to see him again, that he was a disgrace to the family , " a bloody ocker with no place in the family." His rello's hated him and it took him 26 years to figure it out. Still, he tried laughing it off, and quickly left the home, spending his holiday's where he always felt the most safe, in the Outback. He wrestled a few crocs for Christmas and spent the new years with a few of Biff's rellos who knew him very well (and accepted him more than his parents ever did). He even got a gift for John Paul on his way back to Liberty city.
Speaking of which, the little critter was currently burrowed in Logan's hair, nipping at the locks and making a random fuss whenever she pleased. When Logan had found her, a new zealand man informed him the bird was a Little Spotted Kiwi, smallest of the bunch, that seemed to have gotten lost on her way home. Logan felt she would appreciate a new home.
Just as he appreciated his home in Liberty City.
And in this new home, he would drown his (unfamiliar) sorrows away with beer.
WHEN: February 10th, Wednesday night
WHERE: Some piss poor street curb
WHAT: Logan hitchhiked his way back to his new home, Liberty City, and the first thing he wants is a beer.
It was something Logan was not very familiar with and he wasn't quite sure if he was ever acquainted with it. He knew it was a different type of feeling from what he was used to but this was the strange kind he couldn't just walk off. Physical pain Logan understood very well. He's been through the worst of physical pain, from breaking several bones in his body to almost bleeding to death, so him and pain had developed a pretty steady friendship. Pain gave Logan the rush of being alive and gave him the opportunity to dominate it, overcome pain in order to do greater things.
However, this different type of pain had no visible bruises or cuts which Logan could just patch up and forget about. It was an emotional pain Logan couldn't ignore until it healed.
And he hated it (which itself was knew to him becuase Logan didn't hate many things and when he did, it was mild and easily overlooked).
He took a lazy sip of his beer, the burning warmth it sent through his body gave no consolation to the bitter cold lump he felt at the pit of his stomach. A six pack of bottled beer lay beside him on the curb, two of the three bottles missing lay abandoned at his feet. He hadn't gone home yet and still had his travel bag slung over his shoulder, still wore the same worn out clothes since he left Brisbane.
Ah, Brisbane, once a beautiful city, now only brought a bitter taste to his mouth and a burn in the back of his eyes whenever he thought about it.
He was born there, born into what he (foolishly) thought was a loving home. But he was very wrong.
He didn't even spend more than five minutes in his childhood home before his parents told him they never wanted to see him again, that he was a disgrace to the family , " a bloody ocker with no place in the family." His rello's hated him and it took him 26 years to figure it out. Still, he tried laughing it off, and quickly left the home, spending his holiday's where he always felt the most safe, in the Outback. He wrestled a few crocs for Christmas and spent the new years with a few of Biff's rellos who knew him very well (and accepted him more than his parents ever did). He even got a gift for John Paul on his way back to Liberty city.
Speaking of which, the little critter was currently burrowed in Logan's hair, nipping at the locks and making a random fuss whenever she pleased. When Logan had found her, a new zealand man informed him the bird was a Little Spotted Kiwi, smallest of the bunch, that seemed to have gotten lost on her way home. Logan felt she would appreciate a new home.
Just as he appreciated his home in Liberty City.
And in this new home, he would drown his (unfamiliar) sorrows away with beer.