My prose offering

[ROCKSTEADY]

I've decided im going to be a little experimental with my offering.

I will be releasing pieces of my offering (irregularly) from now until july 8th. It's going to chronicle one day, I have never done anything like this before, so expect it to be pretty rough and uninteresting, basically just a way for me to write and get feedback Everything will be rough and unedited, so please make suggestions and point stuff out too me, i eventually want to revise and edit them once their all done.

here it is.

1._______________________________________________

I was (regrettably) awake, at first i thought it was the light.The light wasn’t even half of it, despite how bright it shone through the curtains on my eyelids, it was truly my dog, who was barking riotously in the hallway. Still in post slumber incoherence, I drove the hair from my face, my fingers like teeth in a comb. “Shut the hell up Deacon†I screamed in a hoarseness that could only be caused by a pack of Pall Malls the night before. I turned my head from the rays of light beaming through my window like lasers. I feigned interest in my dog, considering he barks at any animate thing that happens to cross his line of sight. Over the barking however, I heard quick rapping on the aluminum screen door.

I leaped out of my bed and grabbed a dirty shirt; it still smelt like cigarettes and coffee. I struggled putting the shirt on my head as I walked out my bedroom door to see who was there. It was Casey. He was wearing a pair of faded blue jeans, Brown leather dress shoes and a green shirt with a peace symbol on it, something I’ve seen him wear a thousand times before. Granted, Casey has a rather eccentric fashion sense, but this was the classic stand-by. His attire would range from green plaid dress jackets to acid stained paisley print shirts. “Oh, hey man, come on in,†I called down the hallway as I turned back into my room to put on some jeans, “Where you been man?†“Oh you know, working and stuff. Oh guess what Colin!†Casey barked enthusiastically, “I got my breaks fixed!†I finished zipping up my pants and I turned around to see Casey standing in my doorway, arms at his side, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Shit, ‘bout time†I said half chuckling. Casey looked at my feet quickly, “Wanna go get something to drink?†he asked. “Sure man, lemme get some shoes on.â€

Casey strode down the hallway to the door with my dog smiling and bouncing along beside him, Deacon was under the impression that he was also going on a car ride. I lazily reached my foot under the antique armoire that my mother had put there when we moved in. After searching around with my bare foot, I felt torn hemp. I pulled out my shoes and slipped them on my feet. They were a pair of I-path cats, it seemed like I had had them for ever. There were holes all through them, but they were comfortable and allowed me to walk into the local Gas station.

I slipped out the door so that my dog wouldn’t escape and try to get into the car. “No go†I said as I looked at him from down the hallway. In the mere instant that I muttered those words his face went from the most exuberant canine smile one would ever see, to a look so forlorn, that it would make your high school gym teacher weep. I’d been conditioned to his tricks for three years; I came to ignore the face. I felt generally raw about that fact. It seems that I killed apart of me, just to not have to deal with the thought that I was causing my best friend emotional harm. I also felt generally raw that I had exiled feeling raw about that general subject, like a sequence of tiny emotional suicides, slowly killing my emotions as a whole.

I walked out onto my scorching porch; I could hear it cracking as the morning sun slowly baked it. The roar of the yellow crop duster that annually worked the fields surrounding my house screamed past my zenith. Although I didn’t look up, I could instinctively tell that there the sky was absent of even the slightest hint of a cloud. As the plane soared away I slowly heard Casey’s Oldsmobile, rumbling like some kind of antique boat.

Casey drove a brown Cutlass. Like all Oldsmobiles, the catalytic converter had fallen off of it months ago, so it was always painfully loud. I pushed old clothes and Pixies drive-through cups off the seat as I got in. Looking down at the floor I kicked other trash out of the way of my feet, mostly empty cigarette packs and old work schedules. Casey handed me a cigarette, I took one out and lit it. I looked at my cell phone, I had a text message.

How I loathed cell phones. Yet I addictively carried it with me. My relationship with it was not far removed from that of a homeless junky and they’re next fix, I didn’t hate the cell phone, I hated what it made me do. I began reading the text message, it was from the girl I had been hanging out with at the time, I had coffee with her the night before at my favorite diner. “Goodmorning,†I smiled. I couldn’t remember the last time a girl had been so sweet to me, as if there ever was a time. I deleted the message and shook the thoughts of her out of my head, it was depressing.

We got to the gas station and I threw my cigarette out on the concrete next to a tractor. I loathed the monotony of this place and the artificial flavored beverages that I constantly purchased here, yet it wasn’t the drinks themselves that I hated, it was what they turned me into.