This one time I noticed the sun setting. I had crossed into another part of Ace City's greater asshole and while the sunset itself meant little to me, I found myself thinking about my home. Despite the anxiety and often suicidal desperation I'd always enjoyed the sunset out the window of my room.
I smelled the air and blinked. I knew where I was – I was on the verge of entering Edendale, where I grew up. I blinked again. I could theoretically take a left at the next street. Groove along into residential paradise and end up at my mother's place.
A fantasy took over. I'd look at my old house, and then, there'd be some magical moment and the new owners would let me move into the garage, and there would be success of the sort promised by Hallmark movies and religious pamphlets.
Or I'd get picked up right at the corner by a mad women driving are purposed bread truck, and she'd drive me somewhere adventurous andexotic, and fuck me a lot, and then try to kill me, because she was crazier than me. I could see her at the wheel, her skinny brown hands thrown over the big wheel, spouting insane nonsense, and me sitting next to her, munching on something good and fresh and getting a boner.
Fantasies are odd, particularly when you are away from the Big Clock.
Odder still, I then found myself in a liquor store with a sweaty big boy of King Cobra, strolling out, peripherally aware of the kid at theregister, looking up from him phone, saying, "Hey, that's for sale."
I said, "Sure," and also grabbed a bag of double-cheese popcorn.
Through the open door and into the night.
Next, me behind a Popeye's dumpster. The beer was ice cold, the way it should be. The popcorn was stale and tasted like shit, and as I kept shoveling it into my mouth I told myself it was better than the literal garbage I'd been eating. It was better than the rocks and pebbles and broken glass sprinkled around me. Soon the orange sizzle of a malt liquor buzz, feeling like hope, reminding me again that I was close to home, and that I had no home. I had just stolen cheap beer. It was just another fantasy. This was just where the fantasy had brought me, and where would it take me next?
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THE DOG HUNTERS (completed)
General FictionA suicidal homeless weirdo has adventures. He runs into a duo of dog lovers, who spend their days traveling around the city observing and honoring dogs. Wisdom cannot be run away from. He escapes paradise and falls in love with a strange lady who m...
