Sounds like bullshit to me.

That;’s what she said.  Its what she wants for her birthday.

I don’t even know what it is. Sounds like some sort of disease.

The ginger was burning in his mouth – he liked the feel of it around the tip of his tongue and his gums.

Not saying anything, he looked out the window into the street.  it was quiet looking outside and he wasn’t really sure what the hell quiet looking meant.   Maybe it was just the way it looked like nothing was going on.  It wasn’t as though an absence of obvious action equated to an equal absence of sound.

It looks quiet.  What the fuck does that mean anyhow?  Always trying to sound fancy. Jeezuss! He scratched at his wrist with his left hand nervously.   What the fuck is the matter with me? he thought.    He tried to narrow his eyes slightly as though he were trying really hard to focus on something.  He tried to look preoccupied, or profound.

There you go again fancy pants, with your big fuckin’ words!

Big fuckin’ deal!

He noticed that on the edge of the lawn was a softball.  At least that is what they used to be called.   Softballs.  Baseballs.  Hardballs.   Sound like dirty pet names he thought.  Softballs.  He wondered who had called him that.

Come here, softballs.

Would make a good name for a  cat, too.  A big , white, fluffy, blue-eyed cat with a fancy collar.   Softballs the cat.

Here softballs, here kitty kitty kitty!

Holeee shit.  I’m losin’ it!

He looked at his wrist.  it had a long red-purple mark on it where the itch had been.

think of one thing and stay focussed on it.  one thing.

anything.

anything.

Bourbon.

bitches

birthday presents

bourbonbitches

bitchespresents

fuck!