A Shrt Wlak

Remember what happened last night? Good. Now tell the world.

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The Urbane Spaceman
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A Shrt Wlak

Post by The Urbane Spaceman »

WALK


A singular pursuit. It occupies the mind. And time.

Effort, mind, work: Time. It gets down to the bone, like a cold winter chill when nothing grows.

Wait.

Hopeful.

Growth in the spring.



WALK



WALKWAITWORKTIMEWAITWALKWHITEWALKWORKWAITWHITEWALKWHITEWrOTEWHITEWROTE REDWRITER rED WRITE RED RED RED RED DREAD



Time is not for spending, unless it’s earned. Gold in your hand. Pockets have holes, and there are grifters all around.
Pick.
Don’t waste your time.
Never bide the time.
Pick the time to spend.
Do this wisely.
Be frugal with your gold.
If sunshine is gold on the ceiling, then a hole in the pocket is the death of us all.

Bored.
Who has time to be bored?
Well, ya know. Not being nawsty here.
Your cell is what you have in your pocket.


WALK.


Care for a DRINK? It would be very nice to have some company on this short walk.




Chapter One: the walk




We slid out of the car like liquid in the night. Bright lights greeted us. What wondrous wealths awaited; we adventurers?



Walk.



Liquid, in this case, meant that we were quite imbated. Imbation is the gold and imbibing is our ship pass. Our sip pass. Our chug pass. Our gargle pass.

We slid, but did not stagger. We were liquid in body, but not finance.

I held onto the lamp post and struggled to grab my pocket computer out of from my pants.

I panted.
The lamp post tossed about like a palm tree during a hurricane.
I blame that for what happened to my cell...

Like that feelingyougetwhenthedoorcloses and you think: do I have my key?

SLAM.



Sparkle.
Gleam.
Arc.
Rainbow.
Rain of glass dust.

All of the memories of mammaries in that cell. All of the exploits. All of my history.
Without your cell, who are you? Do you exist anymore? What is left? What is right?

The lamp post cast me to the gerund and I was left at my ending.

The shadow of my fall slammed me in the cheek. The sidewalk friction slowed me noggin with grain in my skin. I swear that I was diving for my cell-brick during mid-flight, but that is most likely a reformatting of my RAM.

How could I pay the Uber dude? I hoped that I wouldn’t lose my 4.9

Wiry arms lifted me up and put my cell in my hand.

His weathered face, like the side of an old, forgotten barn,
…well, it creaked open, and some words ran wild form the door. He said, “R U OK?”

Uber dude.
I nodded, chipped tooth, bleeding chin and cheek.
He nodded back.
He said, “We help other two. Make safe for now. Then I leave you. Call ambulance.”

What happened to my other two?

I looked over, and they were struggling to get up, using each other to stand, but pulling each other back down.

I laughed.

I said, “You go now. Be safe. I pay you with cash.”

He smiled. “You sure?”

I said, “mosshht sherrtennly. We good. We are on an adventure, and thissh issh not how it endshshs.”

I paid him and crawled over to the other two.

It turned out to be a lovely evening.

My cell was broken.


---URbssshh out.

.

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oettinger
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Re: A Shrt Wlak

Post by oettinger »

Beavis? Butthead? Thank god you are here. I`m bleeding internally, please call an ambulance...
Drink!
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