Here's an oldie I wrote a while back, shall try to dig up some older stuff whilst producing something more recent for your mental torture.
Hitcher
Bugger. waking up at 8 o'clock in the morning is usually a bad sign. The cream coloured sheets wrapped around me like a mothers embrace and the pillow over my head to block out the sickly morning chorus. Tearing myself from my safe cocoon i stumbled into the bathroom to end up flat on my back and cursing to high heaven. Some brainless idiot had left the taps running in the bath. Oh, wait, that was me. Last nights visit to the pub wasn't exactly.. enjoyable. I shook my head as i crawled to the little corner where the shower was hiding. Yes my friend, its going to be one of those days.
After washing off last nights unpleasantness and shaving/ I followed the trail of clothes down to the kitchen. My briefcase was sitting on the table, opened and all the letters, notes and odd sheets of paper lying around it. Having waded through a sea of reports, forms and written warnings, I reached my goal of the coffee machine.
“Oh sweet, sweet caffeine. How could i live without you.”, i said to myself with a smile emerging from the depths of my soul.. I opened the cupboard to find that, amazingly, I'd run out of coffee.
“I think I'm going to cry”, I muttered whilst peering mournfully into the empty jar.
A quick breakfast of toast and a few slices of slightly off cheese; I was ready to bomb a nunnery. The answer machine had gone off again, my boss wasn't too happy when i handed in that forged note. Now that i think about it, small pox wasn't a good choice. I opened the door to be me by two men in suits. Both carrying leaflets, and each wearing an inane grin.
“No I've not heard the good news. Nor do i want to.” I snarled before either of them had a chance to open their mouths. They exchanged glances and the Balde one on the left spoke.
“What if it was really good news?”, the grin grew until I could see myself reflected in those pearly white teeth.
“Tell you what.” I replied, exasperated. “You can tell me, whilst i kick two bells out of your friend.”
they both turned a sickly white as they slowly backed away down the garden path. After yelling profanities at a curious neighbour I took a ride in a Taxi to where I'd parked the car. It was a rental, my personal car was wrapped around a tree somewhere between Birmingham and Telford. Bloody hooligans.
I opened the chrome car door, the reflected overhead lights flashed across my face before I sat down and wrapped both hands round the steering wheel.
“You are in control, complete control. No one else matters, you must survive” I told myself firmly then I slid the key into the ignition and set off.
It was around quarter to seven in the afternoon, judging by the height of the sun. Nothing but me and the road ahead, well myself and the other cars obviously. I wanted to calm down, but something was roaring inside me. Something darker than any night, bloody hell. I must be insane. I had stopped to pick up a hitchhiker. He also bore a ridiculous grin, his long brown hair was held back by what appeared to be a long strand of grass. As he entered the car, the distinct smell of stale sweet swept in like an unwanted winter breeze. An unwanted winter breeze that could kill if you inhaled too deeply.
We talked for most of the journey. Well, he talked and I ignored him. Turns out he hasn't a home, a job or any worries. And after an hour or so, i was getting quite sick of him. I made my mind up on the top road out of Harrogate. Reaching under my seat i pulled out the Krooklok.
“W-what are you doing?”, he questioned. The fear rising in his eyes.
“Pest control”, I replied with a sick smile spreading across my face. So, I smashed him in the face with my elbow and then went on to striking him with the Krooklok, six times in total. My hand firm on the wheel, and my blows true. I could not lose. The hitchhiker was out cold, slumped over with his head resting on the glove compartment. I reached across, unlocked the door, opened it and pushed him out.
His limp body bounced off the kerb and dissappeared down the verge.
I was content. That raging feeling was gone, I hadn't a care in the world.
Hitcher
Bugger. waking up at 8 o'clock in the morning is usually a bad sign. The cream coloured sheets wrapped around me like a mothers embrace and the pillow over my head to block out the sickly morning chorus. Tearing myself from my safe cocoon i stumbled into the bathroom to end up flat on my back and cursing to high heaven. Some brainless idiot had left the taps running in the bath. Oh, wait, that was me. Last nights visit to the pub wasn't exactly.. enjoyable. I shook my head as i crawled to the little corner where the shower was hiding. Yes my friend, its going to be one of those days.
After washing off last nights unpleasantness and shaving/ I followed the trail of clothes down to the kitchen. My briefcase was sitting on the table, opened and all the letters, notes and odd sheets of paper lying around it. Having waded through a sea of reports, forms and written warnings, I reached my goal of the coffee machine.
“Oh sweet, sweet caffeine. How could i live without you.”, i said to myself with a smile emerging from the depths of my soul.. I opened the cupboard to find that, amazingly, I'd run out of coffee.
“I think I'm going to cry”, I muttered whilst peering mournfully into the empty jar.
A quick breakfast of toast and a few slices of slightly off cheese; I was ready to bomb a nunnery. The answer machine had gone off again, my boss wasn't too happy when i handed in that forged note. Now that i think about it, small pox wasn't a good choice. I opened the door to be me by two men in suits. Both carrying leaflets, and each wearing an inane grin.
“No I've not heard the good news. Nor do i want to.” I snarled before either of them had a chance to open their mouths. They exchanged glances and the Balde one on the left spoke.
“What if it was really good news?”, the grin grew until I could see myself reflected in those pearly white teeth.
“Tell you what.” I replied, exasperated. “You can tell me, whilst i kick two bells out of your friend.”
they both turned a sickly white as they slowly backed away down the garden path. After yelling profanities at a curious neighbour I took a ride in a Taxi to where I'd parked the car. It was a rental, my personal car was wrapped around a tree somewhere between Birmingham and Telford. Bloody hooligans.
I opened the chrome car door, the reflected overhead lights flashed across my face before I sat down and wrapped both hands round the steering wheel.
“You are in control, complete control. No one else matters, you must survive” I told myself firmly then I slid the key into the ignition and set off.
It was around quarter to seven in the afternoon, judging by the height of the sun. Nothing but me and the road ahead, well myself and the other cars obviously. I wanted to calm down, but something was roaring inside me. Something darker than any night, bloody hell. I must be insane. I had stopped to pick up a hitchhiker. He also bore a ridiculous grin, his long brown hair was held back by what appeared to be a long strand of grass. As he entered the car, the distinct smell of stale sweet swept in like an unwanted winter breeze. An unwanted winter breeze that could kill if you inhaled too deeply.
We talked for most of the journey. Well, he talked and I ignored him. Turns out he hasn't a home, a job or any worries. And after an hour or so, i was getting quite sick of him. I made my mind up on the top road out of Harrogate. Reaching under my seat i pulled out the Krooklok.
“W-what are you doing?”, he questioned. The fear rising in his eyes.
“Pest control”, I replied with a sick smile spreading across my face. So, I smashed him in the face with my elbow and then went on to striking him with the Krooklok, six times in total. My hand firm on the wheel, and my blows true. I could not lose. The hitchhiker was out cold, slumped over with his head resting on the glove compartment. I reached across, unlocked the door, opened it and pushed him out.
His limp body bounced off the kerb and dissappeared down the verge.
I was content. That raging feeling was gone, I hadn't a care in the world.
