Funny.
One tiny slipup, one outburst lands a guy on his ass like this. A dark, lone alleyway.
Dripping with slime, reeking of all the smells of the city. Rats chewing on God knows what. But hey, it was home, right?
Slouched against the wall, taking a swig of the only medicine he could scrape enough change together to buy. Cold, soulless eyes staring into the shadows. No tears came from them anymore. Alcohol must’ve dried them up.
He sighs. That was a mistake. Hacking, bent double, he almost wretches a lung. Wipes off the red residue that accompanies these little fits.
That’s more than usual, he thinks, and his head slumps down on his chest.
“Fuck it.” He mutters as darkness fills his mind.
A fanfare. He jumps up, head pounding.
“What the fuck is this?” he shouts. Stumbling out on the main street he sees the source. A parade.
A parade? You’ve got to be shitting me.
He yells obscenities, threats, promises and they all fall on deaf ears. Hangovers are a bitch. Shuffling over he strikes the nearest person.
His fist passes through the body, he loses his balance and his face greets the pavement.
Well, that’s new. He pulls himself back up, and retreats back to the only home he can remember.
~Zoo
