After I'm done peeing, I zip up my slacks. Everything I see is everything I lose. Heather had left me a note with the pants. She wrote, "Come back to reality, Leeroy." And she gave me the pants and a tie, so she could choke the breath and manhood out of me even when I wasn't home with her. Oh, my medium-sized American heart.
The kids sit in a circle and watch me as I pick up an empty bottle of liquor and my suitcase. One of them asks, "Leeroy, where'd you get clothes?"
Um.
"Leeroy, could you tell us a story?"
They just want me to make some shit up. A pause. I tell them, "All your dreams will come true and you'll marry someone you love and you'll be happy forever."
. . .
The walk to the bus takes forever.
That lucky drugged up guy lands a few feet away from me in a splatter of blood. So it goes.
A woman was struck by lightning and burnt to a crisp. God was right; in the end, we can't make a difference.
A woman was struck by lightning and burnt to a crisp. God was right; in the end, we can't make a difference.
That painfully normal lady with the plants crosses over to the fountain.
Brian still doesn't have any limbs. I still can't remember what Ms. Pigg looks like.
Brian still doesn't have any limbs. I still can't remember what Ms. Pigg looks like.
That guy with the staff stands in the middle of the basketball court, casting spells. What the fuck.
While I wait for the bus, I contemplate writing a book when I'm not working my 9 to 5. I contemplate living a little. Whatever. All my dreams will come true.
While I wait for the bus, I contemplate writing a book when I'm not working my 9 to 5. I contemplate living a little. Whatever. All my dreams will come true.
The bus arrives, and I get on. I'm on my way to an office or a factory or a school. Heather works, but she'd make more money if she were a boy. And if I were smarter, I wouldn't teach. But I'm not as smart as I could be.
The bus pulls away, and nobody saw, heard from, or cared for Leeroy Jenkins again.
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