Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Bloggaday 87 – PWND It’s Been The Worst Day

Bloggaday 87 – PWND It’s Been The Worst Day
Each step brought a new cloud of dust as each breath brought a new puff of smoke. The cigarette hung from his lips, limp as the heat beat at his consciousness. He spit the old butt out and muttered “Fuck, it’s hot,” as he rocked to a stop. The music being strangled in his pocket went silent for a moment before picking up the beat of a new song.
Lighting a new cigarette, the man smiled at the new tune “It’s been the worst day since yesterday.” As his trudging began to swing into a swagger, the song fell into a ringing.
A sigh brought his steps back steps back to a trudge. He dug into his pocket and pulled it free. The screen raddled, and above a box of options, ‘Whack Cracker Mac’ lit up the man’s eyes. He tapped at the screen and in between drags said, “Hey Mac, ‘Bout fckn time. I’m inda desert.”
“Well no shit, I figured that much. Where exactly are you?” a voice came through, lacking the musicality the man had enjoyed for the last fifteen minutes.
“Jeeze. Clm yur sht nd hld on.” He took the phone away from his ear and started tapping buttons and scrolling through pages. “Iknow ths hing hs u lcator… Ha!” he yelped with an eerie lack of emotion. Pulling the cigarette out of his mouth, he continued. “There, I just texted you my location.”
“Okay, I’ll check, but I have to call you back. I want a rundown then.”
“Ya, ya ya. Jst cm n gt mu ass.”
The man took in another deep drag as the music started again. “As the four winds blow, my wits through the door.” He crammed the phone back into his pocket, deafening the notes, but he got a few steps off before the phone began ringing again.
“Fu fck’s shake.” He dug back into his pocket to retrieve the phone, but this time he put it on speakerphone. “Yu kep screwin mu song up.”
“Take the damn cigarette out of you mouth and tell me what happened,” the voice boomed from the tiny speakers.
One last draw killed the rest of the cigarette and a limp cherry collapsed from the butt. The filter fell from his lips and got lost in the storms of sand trailing his feet.

Listening to
The Devil’s Lube by Two and a Half Men

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For the Piccaday Mass me by the month Me paced out by the day. Like witches at black masses

87 May 12 Hello part 2

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