(no subject)
It's funny what surfaces from the dusty corners of my mind. When the night is quiet and all I have for company are my own thoughts. Sometimes I think of the past. Do I have any regrets? Not really.
Time for a flashback:
It's been dark for a while now. I'm restless. My brain is running in circles and my legs are yearning to catch up. I sneak out of the house. It feels good to move; the cool air in my lungs and the gravel beneath my feet. But I'm still antsy. I walk for a long time.
I come upon a few scattered buildings. Mostly warehouses, windows dim. Amongst these establishments I see a small building with a flickering neon sign advertising beer. Under the guttering red light of the sign I faintly make out a woman leaning against the wall. I decide to move closer for a better look.
Sticking to the shadows to remain unseen, I take in the woman's untidy appearance. Yellow hair laying limp and greasy over her eyes. Makeup smeared from repeatedly rubbing her hand over her face. Faded jean jacket hanging off her shoulders, only partly covering a stained Metallica t-shirt. Cut-offs covering a hardly modest amount of thigh. And a scuffed pair of cowboy boots that seemed to be a size too big.
She sullenly lights a cigarette and takes a nice, long drag. Coughs, sighs, and stomps the cigarette out. Then she pauses for a moment before rolling her eyes and lighting another. I watch her pace. Her boots dragging a bit as she walks. *scuff, click, scuff, click* on the cold cement. I wonder what, or who, she's waiting for?
I don't have to wait long. Soon enough, the bar door rocks open and a bear of a man comes lumbering out. He trips a little over the step at the bottom of the entrance and spits and curses, hoping the ledge will take offense. It doesn't, so he moves his attention to the waiting woman.
"Lookin' for a date?" She asks him despondently.
He grunts, then proceeds to work up a nice load of phlegm in his throat, only to accidentally spit most of it out onto his own shoe.
"C'mere." He growls.
"You got money?" She questions, but doesn't move any closer.
"I got everfin you need, woman!" The drunk lurches forward and grabs at his propositioner's arm. She easily evades him and lets out a short laugh when he falls on his face with a great "OOF!"
He is slow to rise. The woman has plenty of time to yank his wallet out of the back of his pants and land a painful kick to his side. I follow as she trots off with her prize.
After a couple blocks she seems to sense me behind her, for she quickens her step. She tries to look behind her, but trips in her too-big boots and falls on her jean-clad rump. She sees me and laughs with relief.
"You scared the hell out of me! What're you doing here? Where d'you live?" Over her annoyance, she actually seems slightly concerned for my well-being.
I sidle up to the woman, who is still sitting on the ground. I smile my biggest smile. I reach into my pocket. I pull my hand back out. And, as hard as I can, I thrust my crayon into her right eye.
While she's screaming I pick up the recently procured wallet off the street. Then I head home. I can hear her shouting and sobbing for quite a few blocks. What a voice that one has on her. She could be a singer!
When I finally reach the haven of my bedroom I open the wallet. I couldn't be more pleased. Three more dollars towards the Betsy Wetsy I've been dreaming of!
Time for a flashback:
It's been dark for a while now. I'm restless. My brain is running in circles and my legs are yearning to catch up. I sneak out of the house. It feels good to move; the cool air in my lungs and the gravel beneath my feet. But I'm still antsy. I walk for a long time.
I come upon a few scattered buildings. Mostly warehouses, windows dim. Amongst these establishments I see a small building with a flickering neon sign advertising beer. Under the guttering red light of the sign I faintly make out a woman leaning against the wall. I decide to move closer for a better look.
Sticking to the shadows to remain unseen, I take in the woman's untidy appearance. Yellow hair laying limp and greasy over her eyes. Makeup smeared from repeatedly rubbing her hand over her face. Faded jean jacket hanging off her shoulders, only partly covering a stained Metallica t-shirt. Cut-offs covering a hardly modest amount of thigh. And a scuffed pair of cowboy boots that seemed to be a size too big.
She sullenly lights a cigarette and takes a nice, long drag. Coughs, sighs, and stomps the cigarette out. Then she pauses for a moment before rolling her eyes and lighting another. I watch her pace. Her boots dragging a bit as she walks. *scuff, click, scuff, click* on the cold cement. I wonder what, or who, she's waiting for?
I don't have to wait long. Soon enough, the bar door rocks open and a bear of a man comes lumbering out. He trips a little over the step at the bottom of the entrance and spits and curses, hoping the ledge will take offense. It doesn't, so he moves his attention to the waiting woman.
"Lookin' for a date?" She asks him despondently.
He grunts, then proceeds to work up a nice load of phlegm in his throat, only to accidentally spit most of it out onto his own shoe.
"C'mere." He growls.
"You got money?" She questions, but doesn't move any closer.
"I got everfin you need, woman!" The drunk lurches forward and grabs at his propositioner's arm. She easily evades him and lets out a short laugh when he falls on his face with a great "OOF!"
He is slow to rise. The woman has plenty of time to yank his wallet out of the back of his pants and land a painful kick to his side. I follow as she trots off with her prize.
After a couple blocks she seems to sense me behind her, for she quickens her step. She tries to look behind her, but trips in her too-big boots and falls on her jean-clad rump. She sees me and laughs with relief.
"You scared the hell out of me! What're you doing here? Where d'you live?" Over her annoyance, she actually seems slightly concerned for my well-being.
I sidle up to the woman, who is still sitting on the ground. I smile my biggest smile. I reach into my pocket. I pull my hand back out. And, as hard as I can, I thrust my crayon into her right eye.
While she's screaming I pick up the recently procured wallet off the street. Then I head home. I can hear her shouting and sobbing for quite a few blocks. What a voice that one has on her. She could be a singer!
When I finally reach the haven of my bedroom I open the wallet. I couldn't be more pleased. Three more dollars towards the Betsy Wetsy I've been dreaming of!