In the aftermath of liberty for all, I am free to make my own decisions. They all want to trade spots with this merchant, who barters for gold, tossed about upon my sea of illusion.
The sailors are crying out. "Walter Hatwin is leaving us!"
If not for Shae Harbor then I would have already left you. I know none of these lost souls in the hallways, but I'm trampling over them as I walk.
Bang! Bang!
Coach Fishy is a short, German man, who takes care of the less fortunate kids. Hopefully, he doesn't feel too dumbfounded once I tell him that I'm leaving the team.
"Hey, Walt!" said a black kid, who I have known for many years, Darren Thomas. I passed by him in the hallway while he was posted up against a locker with a freshman beside him, dying of laughter.
I'm hoping for something more efficient than a baseball to fall from the sky. If Coach Fishy wants me to stay on his team, I still plan on leaving it, no matter what he tries to tell me.
I've been sitting on the bench for far too long, and I can't play the dunce, anymore. Perhaps, my teammates will look back in time, and see me, Walter Hatwin, on the bench with a book.
Maybe, they'll open it up and read it. I put a lot of work into creating this record book, and its filled with the blasts of Eddy Baker. Even though I feel like I wrote it, I'm not good enough to be in the spotlight.
I'll leave it for somebody else.
"Hey, Coach Fishy." I said to him as I entered his classroom.
He's sitting at his desk, correcting some quizzes and filling up his students' papers with a lot of red ink.
"Hi," he replied quietly as he was looking down at his desk.
"Do you need something?"
There was a bunch of wrong answers, before and after, I began moving my lips. Both sides of this conversation are ready to find someone else, already. Bang!
"Why is that, Walt?" he asked me like he was curious.
"Sir, I don't know," I said. "I just don't want to play anymore. That's all."
"Well, okay, if you insist." he hung up the rope for me, and I walked forward into a swinging orgasm.
Coach Fishy doesn't even care about me quitting the team. Maybe, I should call him Mr. Fishy, now. All in all, he saved me a lot of time by accepting my final forfeit, right away. He stood up from his desk, after taking my jersey, and shook my hand sternly.
"You're still a Giant, Walter." he said.
Shae Harbor was at the game, but I wasn't allowed to play within it. I peed myself on the bench and watched the whole damn game beside another kid, Danny Sherman.
Nothing that I do seems to work, but all of these shortly remembered visions are psychedelic. I wade around in this colorful ocean while these piranhas teach me how to breed.
"Fuck you, too." I slightly mumbled as I walked out.
Possibly some other world will find us eventually, but until that time comes, there is no other sea. You all have a lot to live for, but I am still a Giant.
It's just so bad that no one can see me.
YOU ARE READING
Convincing Shae Harbor
Misteri / ThrillerI had to write this book, just so I could say that I wrote a book within my lifetime. This book is filled with vulgar language and grotesque imagery. Readers beware! This book is about a high school shooting which also depicts a young man's love for...
