he owned one pair of shoes four pairs of socks one pair of pants a tank top two t-shirts and a sweatshirt
he’d lost the cap in his last dice game.
“well, hell, doesn’t matter, broke the spell,” he chanted, “therefore somehow, someway luck is gonna come my way and why not here, now, today?”
the dreams haven’t left the dreams were still in him, in his soul ready to explode
47 manuscripts: 14 novels, 7 novellas, and 26 short stories he carried in his pack along with his socks his other t-shirt a knife six pens he stole from the library where he wrote a candy bar and an old dull razor
he wasn’t so young anymore the beard and gray hairs made him look much older surely the hunger had affected that as well
but it didn’t matter he was going to make it one day, some day soon
“The angriest I ever got,” she said, “Was with an ex-boyfriend, of course. I just wanted him to die. But like, not casual wanting him to die. Really, really wishing with all my might that he’d drop dead. I felt I couldn’t go on living as long as I knew he was alive. I had to do something about it. I was literally about to explode. So, to prevent that, I got dressed and despite the rain and all I went straight to the nearest pet shop. Bought me a hamster. And with a red marker, I wrote my boyfriend’s name on its back. And then slammed that hamster against the wall 134 times. For the 134 hours we’d been together. I calmed down after that. But, you know, I don’t like talking about myself all that much. Tell me about yourself. Also, what should we get from the menu? Have you decided yet?”
It wasn't looking good at all the framed picture of Jesus had cuts all over it On the face In the hair On the hands joined in prayer And the eyes were crossed out deep and cut out
why would he do that? Why would a five year old do that to the gift he got from grandma? Was the child possessed? Oh, God! Was the child possessed by the devil?
They took him to church to find out and the priest asked him why did he cut the Jesus in the framed picture and the kid said, "I wanted a bike, not a stupid picture!"
"He is definitely possessed," said the priest "You'll have to bring him to church every Thursday and Sunday. And I will give you further instructions."
Grandma fainted mother broke down crying
Father got him a bike actually. But mother and grandma made sure it won't reach him. Because father left mother and went away to live a life of sin with another woman. All ties had to be cut with that sinner. The bike was donated to a foster home where the nuns pasted a picture of Jesus on the basket to protect the rider from accidents But the first kid who rode it fell off while climbing a slope and the bike slid across the asphalt leaving deep scratches into the face of Jesus
he could count the major events in his life on a mangled hand's fingers But this was one of them. The day she took him to church. So that's what girlfriends are for.
But he didn't like the church didn't like the songs didn't like the preacher and the preaching
the man spoke of hell. But he didn't know shit about hell. No baby, hell's not a place where you go, it's a place where you stay. Namely, a body and a mind that has no major passions no drive towards improvement no dreams no goals no desire to get out and connect with the world no love to share no stories to tell or disposition to listen no reasons to live or carry on
In other words, me, motherfucker. I am hell.
He broke up with his girlfriend the next day. Her crying didn't affect him
Some daughters love their fathers a bit too much and their mothers not enough
This father was a cop, the type that deals with the nasty cases and he often came home drunk. Alcohol did help, he said and drank some more on the couch and sometimes drank until he passed out
she was thirteen, his daughter and would constantly nag him with questions about work. He didn't wanna talk about work, about the gruesome details of it and all that, but edgy teenagers will be edgy teenagers She insisted and he kept drinking and eventually passed out on his side
She was excited took his gun from the holster and started studying it with passion turning it on all sides, smelling it, holding it close to the face and
BANG!
the bullet got her lower jaw it was a bloody mess and she was in pain and gagging on blood and shards of bone and teeth But...
to call for help right now would be wrong. The whole world would accuse daddy and he had no fault. And mommy would reopen the case and have no problem gaining custody of her Fuck! This was bad! This was so bad!
And it was getting worse, she felt it. Felt close to fainting. Father was still on the couch. Passed out drunk.
She had to take matters into her own hands. Shambled into the kitchen and grabbed the cutting board from the table and dipped a finger in her bloody mouth and wrote with it on the cutting board
MY FAULT DADDY INOCENT (with a single 'N')
She went outside holding the cutting board and knocked on the neighbor's door.
Daydreaming as a profession 