Thursday, July 28, 2011

On The Bottom (Practice Writing #1)

        This is something I started writing last week just because I told myself I needed to write something, anything. I haven't put a lot of thought into this, it's pure unadulterated crap. Let me know what you really think.
       I'm waking up from the glare of the sunlight around 9am, I roll out of bed with nothing on and go into the bathroom and take a piss. Still naked I walk into the kitchen and begin to make some ramen noodles in the microwave. Standing next to the microwave for two minutes I realize that it's actually to cold this morning to be walking around naked. I throw some briefs on while waiting for the noodles. I stand in front of the sink looking out  the window that has a great view of the second level on the apartment I try to map out the day. I need to do the laundry first, which is all I know. I walk back to the bathroom and shower and while getting dressed I listen to the new Surfer Blood album while standing around naked and flexing my muscles, I eventually decide on an old sweater to wear again today, it looks like rain. I take my keys off the nightstand and make my way outside to my car where it starts to mist lightly. I already have my laundry in the back and don't worry about the two day old clothes I'm wearing now. I stop in at the gas station filling up my car and while inside I buy a pack of gum but don't open it until later when I'm in the laundry mat waiting for my clothes to dry. Across from my seat is a women who looks seven years older then me that keeps looking up from her magazine eying my suspiciously.  Probably because I'm chewing my gun louder then a cow just to annoy the bitch who is sitting next to me. After my clothes dry I fold them there before bringing them back to my apartment where I browse the internet for an hour before finally writing a one page short story about a cat who accidentally falls in love a dog.
       At work later at a grocery store the girl I like is just leaving as I'm arriving. I say hey to her but she jumps on me stabbing with a small razor and I'm to shocked to finish my sentence. I punch in an go to my register and ring people through for two hours before getting a fifteen minute break. I didn't bring any money with me today so I don't eat but I'm not hungry. The break room has a fridge, microwave, a toaster, and a sink. A round table in the middle with some chairs around it. I take a seat and after a minute a flood of people come in on break. They sit down or stand next to the table or around the room eating. The toaster jumps to life with someone's bagel and they spread strawberry cream cheese over it that looks good but the bagel is burnt. Someone's drinking an orange colored drink, another is checking their voice mail. I talk to a few people but feel distracted. I leave the break room a minute early and head back to my register where I check groceries out for another two hours. The people that come through my line are usually old and don't know how to use their credit card. It's rare for someone to right a check for the exact amount. It's always twenty dollars over or sometimes five. After an old hippie goes though and pays with cash there's no one waiting to be checked through so I clean the register area for ten minutes before punching out and going back to the break room. In the break room I sit down in a chair and look at the schedule for next week. The faucet on the sink is dripping blood and the whole sink is covered with a sticky red color. I work twenty seven hours next week and have Wednesday and Thursday off.
       I drive over to my friend Dan's house that's on a dead end street in one of the communities suburb areas. He opens the door with his eyes bloodshot and reeking of pot and invites me in. He walks in to his living room and sits down on the beige colored couch. A bong sits on the table between the couch and television and he picks it up and looks at the bowl very carefully. I sit down in a chair and sink into the cushion three inches. Dan rips the bong but doesn't hold the smoke in and this bothers me for some reason. The television on set to a nature watch channel with some birds perching on tree's and then flying away. Dan starts to talk about someone who died today and was twenty seven years old and I guess they were a famous musician and about Club 27. I just nod and notice the flowers painted on the wall behind Dan's figure. A man comes onto the television and violently stabs a giraffe several times in the legs. Dan gets up and walks out of the room. It starts to rain lightly outside and there are some flashes of lighting.
        After Dan gets out of the bathroom I tell him I'm leaving and that maybe I'll call him next week. I drive home in the rain and it's getting late so I switch on my lights and turn the radio on. Led Zeppelin's Thank You is playing and it sounds mood fitting right now. I get home and it's dark and still raining and lighting. I turn on the television and start making some noodles to eat. I sit on the couch and watch a movie with Raine Wilson in it.  I eat the noodles while watching the tv still and end up switching to another movie towards the end. My apartment is in the outskirts of town in a small community, it's not an actual apartment, just a house that rents rooms. It has one bathroom and a kitchen, and a living room. I have to sleep on the pullout couch which I don't mind because it's actually comfortable. I have just a table, a couch, a television, and a wardrobe where I have my stereo and other miscellaneous items I can't keep track of. There's only one other person who lives in this small space for rent in the upstairs part. He's someone older them me who I've only talked to a couple times since I moved in three months ago, in late April. He sometimes runs into my room with a sharp object threating  to gut me. I don't spend a lot of time in my place because I'm usually out either working or reading books at the library or just driving around and parking in some parking lot trying to figure things out.
        I go to work on a Tuesday and I decide to walk instead of driving. It's only a ten minute walk and it isn't raining today. I'm wearing my work shirt, which is a beige polo and some faded blue jeans. While walking past some houses I decide to take a path that I've walked by a few times before and I think it's a shortcut that comes out on a street near to where I work. I need a change in scenery and the backs out people's houses is somewhat interesting. Walking up a small hill on the paved path my feet scuff on the ground a few times. I notice a man in his later twenty's shows up behind me and is starting to walk up behind me. I keep walking but the man behind me makes me nervous so I start to pick my pace. He does the same. Around the next corner a man is standing in an alleyway between two houses painted yellow. I panic and start running towards what I hope looks like a main street. It isn't and I keep making turns on the path inbetween houses and people's back yards. The other men are also running the same way as me trying to keep up. I make a right turn after running by a house that's pained red and has black painted trim. The paint on all the buildings I'm running past all have bad spots of paint peeling and flaking onto the ground and being lifted off the ground by the yellowed grass in the shade of sheds and more houses. The two men are only a turn behind me but I don't know where I'm going and the last turn I took turns out to be a dead end so I press myself up against a wall next to the red house and wait for the men to run by. They see me when they run by and I try to get away but one grabs my arm and throws me to the ground. I try getting up but the other one kneels over me and starts punching me in the face and ribs. The one punching me in the face has a dark green jacket on and has a beard but a shaved head. The other one, who has started kicking me is wearing aviator sunglasses.  I'm to dazed and confused to tell them to stop and I bend my legs and push on the ground with my arms trying to get up but they keep hitting and kicking me. I'm knocked out after what feels like an hour of being hit and wake up a couple hours later bleeding from the face badly that there's a small pool of blood on the pavement underneath my face. I check my phone and have one missed message from work.

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