This story is about Wayne, a factory welder, who feels he is suffering from depression. Wayne l visits a traditional psychiatrist/ psychologist. But, quickly dismisses the 'think positive' and medication route as utter bullshit. In fact, going to th...
A couple days have passed and Wayne is sitting in his car smoking cigarettes after work. He's been off work an hour and takes the long way home. Then just sits in his car, smoking. Sometimes it's just 20 minutes, sometimes it's over an hour. Even that bliss of a hot shower isn't enough to spur action to walk into that Hell called home.
Unless they are not home. Then he has a needle in his arm and is chillin' on the couch within 30 minutes of clocking out.
But alas, they are home so Wayne just sits in his car. Taking deep breaths off a menthol 100s cigarette... just staring ahead in a trance.
No music. No thoughts. Just motionless.
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Exhaling the smoke, he begins to daydream this constant recurring fantasy. Reaching into the glove compartment of the car he imagines a beautiful stainless steel M1911. Gleaming in the sunlight the bright barrel, the immaculately clean slide, the intricately designed wooden handle polished smooth. The cool of the gun slide in his left palm as he pulls the slide back and locks it in position with his thumb. Placing this magnificent handgun in his lap he produces an alluring .45 ACP round.
The brass cartridge is glowing with happiness and the full metal jacket is gleaming with sunlight. Lovingly he puts this bullet into the empty chamber and unlocks the slide. Smiling he grips the pistol in his hand and feels the grip safety push in. Pulls the hammer back, with his right thumb. He loves the sound and feel of that lock click! Slowly places the cold metal to his right temple. The coolness feels so good against his warm skin. With a slight squeeze he falls asleep into a tranquil slumber on the sands of infinity. Opening his eyes there is a long cigarette ash in his lap. Dusting his lap he reaches into the pack and produces another cigarette and lights it.
Staring ahead blindly, Wayne notices Dr. Roscoe, stretching as if he just awaken from a nap of some sort. Yawning and stretching he stumbles up to a wall and pisses on it. After relieving himself he looks around and notices Wayne sitting in his car. He struts over to the car and hops on the hood. "Hey my man, How's it going?" he gleefully asked. "Fucking awesome man, just another day in paradise" Wayne sarcastically remarked. "Why are you sitting in your car? Don't you want to go inside your place? I mean you spend a whole bunch of money on that castle, don't you want to enjoy it?". Wayne staring ahead just depressingly laughs. "I rather live in my car". Dr. Roscoe smiles and says "You rather live in a car, but make fun of me for living in a dumpster? Then why work and spend money on that expensive place?"."They need it" replies Wayne. "Who's 'they'? Asked Dr. Roscoe inquisitively.
"The bitch and that stupid fucking baby, they need a place to live. They are my problem...they are my responsibility, so I provide for them."Dr. Roscoe smiles "Fuck that shit, be happy for yourself man. If you are happy living in a car do that." Wayne asks "yea but what about them?" Dr. Roscoe exclaims "who gives a fuck? You think they actually care about you? Working all day slaving away just for them? The baby doesn't know up from down. The bitch, haha it's got a college degree, right? That bitch is smart, right lol... it can figure it out. Bitch wanted a baby. Bitch got a baby. The bitch can figure out how to take care of it.
