Sunday, September 9, 2012

Diary Of A Degenerate 9

There's blood in the bed again. It has happened before, but never quite so much. Luckily the culprit was quickly identified when I felt my boxers spot-welded to my asshole. Hemorrhoids again. I swear, someday I will literally shit myself to death with these things. I got up and brushed my teeth then sat in the chair by the window to see if my neighbors were fucking. Sometimes I got lucky and caught them shamelessly copulating with the curtains open, but usually they just watched tv and ate themselves into obesity and beyond. After ten minutes I thought about about throwing a bottle across the alleyway to get their attention, maybe make them do something entertaining, but I didn't feel like talking to the cops today.

I decided to grab the cash Vanessa left for me and sneak some booze into a movie theater, just like when I was 13. First I hit the gas station, put exactly four dollars into the tank, then blew twelve bucks on a flask of rum. I always went to romantic comedies and sat all the way in the back where I could watch the girls with their boyfriends. It wasn't entirely sexual, either. Sometimes I just want to watch them laugh and cry in the dark, with only the projector lighting up their faces. I guess I was staring at one girl when I heard some snickering coming from across the aisle. It was some teenage douchebag trying to impress his girl by ridiculing the dirty old man in the back of the theater.

Instead of starting a big scene I just got up, walked over to them, and sat down right next to his girlfriend. I put my feet up on the seat in front of me and took a big pull off the bottle. "What the fuck, bro?" the kid whispered. I could tell he was a little scared. She was probably sixteen years old, blonde and a little overweight, but the kind of babyfat that would turn into curves in a few years. I leaned in and said "I bet he cries after he cums. That's what faggots do before they realize they are gay. He's gonna leave you for his best friend in a few months." She was halfway out of the theater before the shock wore off of her boyfriend and he took off after her. And there I sat alone until the shitty movie was over.

By the time I was driving home I was flying high, slightly drunk from ten or so shots in 90 minutes. I went straight back to my apartment and stared at the scribbled phone number Vanessa left for an hour or so, then went to bed.



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