Lads of E3
12-07-2009, 05:46 PM
Hey, this is just a rough draft it still needs some work. I'd appreciate any comments, just want to know what people think.
As I paced across the filthy street, bathed undeservedly in glorious sunlight, I recalled the haphazard events of the day. I had woken later than usual, stretched with an involuntary groan and opened the blind that covered my eastern facing bedroom window. The sunlight was just beginning to crawl over the high rises that were clustered near the edge of the city. It cast a harsh, revealing light on my so called ‘neighbourhood’. Not much stirred at this hour. Some of the flats looked so derelict I began to doubt whether the majority of this place was occupied, even though we were told this was a very desirable area for people living off benefits. Flats here were supposed very hard to come by. I thought that was just propaganda and, “desirable”, is the last word I would use to describe this place, unless you enjoyed the peaking crescendo of screaming sirens and smashing bottles at around three in the morning. That’s the only time I thought this place was populated, and returned to the ghost city the with the rise of the sun. It’s odd, I always feel that I’m the single crusader of hope around here. I face the suns rays and the normal people‘s scorn, while my neighbour’s creep out at nigh and sulk in the shadows of this terrific beast. Though I wouldn’t dare say it to them, I know of there existence that much.
All the flats in these buildings are the same. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen/living room. I didn’t used to live here alone. My roommate was a girl. I suppose, looking back on it, we were in a relationship. Although I always struggled to lay things down, I guess that’s the sort of guy I am, I just coast along the highway, and hope I don’t crash. We were close though, that’s for sure. We told them we weren’t together, so they wouldn’t give us someone to fill the other room. I wondered if that lie was what really kept us apart. If it was like that foot in the door that just wouldn’t let it close. We worked together. I think we were the only people in this place that had a job. We walked around this warehouse all day counting boxes of toys, making sure that the shops wouldn’t deny some little boy the most important thing in his life at that point. Though, they’re not to blame. I didn’t even mind the work, it was our boss that I hated. He was this chubby, balding old pervert that would come round when I was talking to her, slap her on the ***, then give her a good old grope, his other hand in his pocket probably holding on to his dick. So I would stand there thinking, “How did this dumb **** get to be in that position?”, while I struggled not to punch him straight in his fat old nose. I’m not really a fighter, but with her it was different. I would have done I swear, but we probably would have lost both our jobs, and I couldn’t afford to walk in darkness, and neither could she. But she’s gone now and so I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore, I can still face it by myself. Anyway, we were close and that’s about it.
So, this morning, I was off work today, I decided I needed a bit of fun. See, the thing is, I’ve always thought of myself as quite intelligent. I wasn’t the best in class, but I didn’t really think that was my fault. I didn’t want to be the teacher’s pet that got ruffed about everyday after school, plus I thought about half the class was smarter than the teacher’s we had had. Anyway, I got one GCSE, in English, and I was quite proud of it. So that day I decided I would go down to the library in town, sign myself up, and have a look at one of these books that are meant to be literary genius, and see what I could make of it. I didn’t know any, ‘classics’, so I’d have to ask when I got there. Doubtless they’d think I was taking the piss after looking at me for a couple seconds, but I thought I’d go anyway.
I didn’t know what time the library opened so I thought I’d go around one, a few hours from then. So I had a shower, money is running low at the moment so I didn’t have any shampoo, and my razor is so old my stubble would probably weaken it. Showering is one of the things most enjoy about the day. I feel normal. The showers are pretty strong and we have hot water. I imagined I was any ordinary bloke, or sometimes even better, possibly some rich author or something, in the shower getting ready for the luxurious day ahead of me. It always came with a bitter aftertaste though because I would step out of the shower and into the wall of reality. Coasting is a ***** sometimes, because your always half asleep, never expecting the crash.
I got dressed, hardly looking at the clothes I was putting on, maybe imagining was putting on a suit worth more than all my possessions combined. The sun’s rays were now bursting through my window, as if they were trying to flush me out, or maybe press me in. You can never tell with these things. I took a couple of steps through to my kitchen and, scraping the mould off, put a some bread in the toaster. My one vice, butter toast. I had loved it since a child and always ensured that I had some edible form of bread and a box of clover for breakfast. It was a normal breakfast, and it gave me a great deal of pleasure to eat. My ‘mum’, more like vodka with a layer of skin, as I used to imagine her, would give me a few quid every week and tell me to go down to Tesco and buy us some food for the week. I had seen these people on T.V. eating buttered toast and I liked the look of them so I thought I’d give it a go. I think I can count the days that I haven’t had butter toast since that day on my hands. My mum was another one of those people afraid of the light. She knew the guy in the local off-licence and he would bring her round some stuff most nights. I don’t know if I ever saw her leave the house if I’m honest. I find it very funny how normal people are scared of the dark, whereas in my experiences with people it has been the complete opposite. I liked waiting for my toast to cook. It gave my life some purpose at that time. I guess I must be some sort of masochist or something because every time that toast flies up into the air, I run headfirst into another wall. I don’t even see it coming even though I do it everyday. I sit down on this garden chair and spread my toast with my one cheap knife, on one of my plastic plates, and remember that episode, even to this day. It was a family at the table, an attractive couple with two children. They all seem to get along so well. It just looked so heavenly while they sit at the table, bathed in this golden sunlight. My kitchen doesn’t even have a window. I just wish I could remember the name of that episode.
For the next few hours, until I headed out, I did nothing. Well, nothing physical. I went into what could be considered a guest room. They hadn’t even noticed she was gone. At the rate people come out of their rooms I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them were full of rotting corpses. So anyway, I opened the blind in the room and sat against the wall with the sun on my face. It’s weird when she went I found, if I was in sunlight, I could sit in an endless trance and just daydream. Endless, seriously. Like I could sit there one moment thinking about bills, then the next instant be thinking if she were still here we might have had a baby. She could sit with us at the table every morning and eat buttered toast with us. This could have been her room. As I said, it’s like I’m coasting on a highway and I just keep crashing and crashing . Timeless streams of thought that flicker constantly, one crash after another, no matter which way I go. To be honest I don’t think I really choose that anyway, and its weird because I don’t think I would have that much to think about.
I really don’t know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was because it was so hot in that room and the breeze that rustled the linen hanging on the roof looked so tempting. Or maybe is was because the sun was shining so beautifully and my memories were straining too hard to keep me in the dark. Or maybe it wasn’t me, just some reflex that triggered me into opening the window and jumping straight towards the sun. Doesn’t really matter anyway, I was fine. Strangely, I never even got hurt I just got up and started walking towards the library. Weird thing is though the library seems so far away, and it was almost like I was treading water. So that’s pretty much where I am now. I delved out of my thoughts and looked up, across the street. She was standing there. I couldn’t really see her face. It was veiled but I still knew it was her. She was holding hands with this kid that looked kind of familiar. I didn’t really care about the child though. So I started towards them, her. I felt some strange intuition and my head twitched to the side as I was slammed backwards by an oncoming lorry. Remarkably, it didn’t even hurt I just sort of floated to the ground. The street had been empty a second ago. To be honest I didn’t even recognise it. I couldn’t even remember where the library was. There were some very tall stairs behind me but I didn’t really care. All I wanted was right in front of me. So I got back up and looked across the street again. It seemed a little wider, and the shady forms less prominent. It didn’t really matter anyway I knew I would get there this time. I didn’t really know what I was going to do when I got there if I’m honest. I set off again and was inches away from her illumining face, when again I was sent sprawling backwards. Though, it almost seemed irrelevant to me. I knew I would get there the next attempt. Time blurred. Every time I was hit just seconds away, and every time I got back up the street got a little wider and she became slightly less distinguishable. Until, I was just standing. Alone. No people. No stairs. Only the sun and the street. A life of endless coasting. Nothing to crash into. Nothing to crash for.
As I paced across the filthy street, bathed undeservedly in glorious sunlight, I recalled the haphazard events of the day. I had woken later than usual, stretched with an involuntary groan and opened the blind that covered my eastern facing bedroom window. The sunlight was just beginning to crawl over the high rises that were clustered near the edge of the city. It cast a harsh, revealing light on my so called ‘neighbourhood’. Not much stirred at this hour. Some of the flats looked so derelict I began to doubt whether the majority of this place was occupied, even though we were told this was a very desirable area for people living off benefits. Flats here were supposed very hard to come by. I thought that was just propaganda and, “desirable”, is the last word I would use to describe this place, unless you enjoyed the peaking crescendo of screaming sirens and smashing bottles at around three in the morning. That’s the only time I thought this place was populated, and returned to the ghost city the with the rise of the sun. It’s odd, I always feel that I’m the single crusader of hope around here. I face the suns rays and the normal people‘s scorn, while my neighbour’s creep out at nigh and sulk in the shadows of this terrific beast. Though I wouldn’t dare say it to them, I know of there existence that much.
All the flats in these buildings are the same. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen/living room. I didn’t used to live here alone. My roommate was a girl. I suppose, looking back on it, we were in a relationship. Although I always struggled to lay things down, I guess that’s the sort of guy I am, I just coast along the highway, and hope I don’t crash. We were close though, that’s for sure. We told them we weren’t together, so they wouldn’t give us someone to fill the other room. I wondered if that lie was what really kept us apart. If it was like that foot in the door that just wouldn’t let it close. We worked together. I think we were the only people in this place that had a job. We walked around this warehouse all day counting boxes of toys, making sure that the shops wouldn’t deny some little boy the most important thing in his life at that point. Though, they’re not to blame. I didn’t even mind the work, it was our boss that I hated. He was this chubby, balding old pervert that would come round when I was talking to her, slap her on the ***, then give her a good old grope, his other hand in his pocket probably holding on to his dick. So I would stand there thinking, “How did this dumb **** get to be in that position?”, while I struggled not to punch him straight in his fat old nose. I’m not really a fighter, but with her it was different. I would have done I swear, but we probably would have lost both our jobs, and I couldn’t afford to walk in darkness, and neither could she. But she’s gone now and so I guess it really doesn’t matter anymore, I can still face it by myself. Anyway, we were close and that’s about it.
So, this morning, I was off work today, I decided I needed a bit of fun. See, the thing is, I’ve always thought of myself as quite intelligent. I wasn’t the best in class, but I didn’t really think that was my fault. I didn’t want to be the teacher’s pet that got ruffed about everyday after school, plus I thought about half the class was smarter than the teacher’s we had had. Anyway, I got one GCSE, in English, and I was quite proud of it. So that day I decided I would go down to the library in town, sign myself up, and have a look at one of these books that are meant to be literary genius, and see what I could make of it. I didn’t know any, ‘classics’, so I’d have to ask when I got there. Doubtless they’d think I was taking the piss after looking at me for a couple seconds, but I thought I’d go anyway.
I didn’t know what time the library opened so I thought I’d go around one, a few hours from then. So I had a shower, money is running low at the moment so I didn’t have any shampoo, and my razor is so old my stubble would probably weaken it. Showering is one of the things most enjoy about the day. I feel normal. The showers are pretty strong and we have hot water. I imagined I was any ordinary bloke, or sometimes even better, possibly some rich author or something, in the shower getting ready for the luxurious day ahead of me. It always came with a bitter aftertaste though because I would step out of the shower and into the wall of reality. Coasting is a ***** sometimes, because your always half asleep, never expecting the crash.
I got dressed, hardly looking at the clothes I was putting on, maybe imagining was putting on a suit worth more than all my possessions combined. The sun’s rays were now bursting through my window, as if they were trying to flush me out, or maybe press me in. You can never tell with these things. I took a couple of steps through to my kitchen and, scraping the mould off, put a some bread in the toaster. My one vice, butter toast. I had loved it since a child and always ensured that I had some edible form of bread and a box of clover for breakfast. It was a normal breakfast, and it gave me a great deal of pleasure to eat. My ‘mum’, more like vodka with a layer of skin, as I used to imagine her, would give me a few quid every week and tell me to go down to Tesco and buy us some food for the week. I had seen these people on T.V. eating buttered toast and I liked the look of them so I thought I’d give it a go. I think I can count the days that I haven’t had butter toast since that day on my hands. My mum was another one of those people afraid of the light. She knew the guy in the local off-licence and he would bring her round some stuff most nights. I don’t know if I ever saw her leave the house if I’m honest. I find it very funny how normal people are scared of the dark, whereas in my experiences with people it has been the complete opposite. I liked waiting for my toast to cook. It gave my life some purpose at that time. I guess I must be some sort of masochist or something because every time that toast flies up into the air, I run headfirst into another wall. I don’t even see it coming even though I do it everyday. I sit down on this garden chair and spread my toast with my one cheap knife, on one of my plastic plates, and remember that episode, even to this day. It was a family at the table, an attractive couple with two children. They all seem to get along so well. It just looked so heavenly while they sit at the table, bathed in this golden sunlight. My kitchen doesn’t even have a window. I just wish I could remember the name of that episode.
For the next few hours, until I headed out, I did nothing. Well, nothing physical. I went into what could be considered a guest room. They hadn’t even noticed she was gone. At the rate people come out of their rooms I wouldn’t be surprised if a lot of them were full of rotting corpses. So anyway, I opened the blind in the room and sat against the wall with the sun on my face. It’s weird when she went I found, if I was in sunlight, I could sit in an endless trance and just daydream. Endless, seriously. Like I could sit there one moment thinking about bills, then the next instant be thinking if she were still here we might have had a baby. She could sit with us at the table every morning and eat buttered toast with us. This could have been her room. As I said, it’s like I’m coasting on a highway and I just keep crashing and crashing . Timeless streams of thought that flicker constantly, one crash after another, no matter which way I go. To be honest I don’t think I really choose that anyway, and its weird because I don’t think I would have that much to think about.
I really don’t know why I did what I did next. Maybe it was because it was so hot in that room and the breeze that rustled the linen hanging on the roof looked so tempting. Or maybe is was because the sun was shining so beautifully and my memories were straining too hard to keep me in the dark. Or maybe it wasn’t me, just some reflex that triggered me into opening the window and jumping straight towards the sun. Doesn’t really matter anyway, I was fine. Strangely, I never even got hurt I just got up and started walking towards the library. Weird thing is though the library seems so far away, and it was almost like I was treading water. So that’s pretty much where I am now. I delved out of my thoughts and looked up, across the street. She was standing there. I couldn’t really see her face. It was veiled but I still knew it was her. She was holding hands with this kid that looked kind of familiar. I didn’t really care about the child though. So I started towards them, her. I felt some strange intuition and my head twitched to the side as I was slammed backwards by an oncoming lorry. Remarkably, it didn’t even hurt I just sort of floated to the ground. The street had been empty a second ago. To be honest I didn’t even recognise it. I couldn’t even remember where the library was. There were some very tall stairs behind me but I didn’t really care. All I wanted was right in front of me. So I got back up and looked across the street again. It seemed a little wider, and the shady forms less prominent. It didn’t really matter anyway I knew I would get there this time. I didn’t really know what I was going to do when I got there if I’m honest. I set off again and was inches away from her illumining face, when again I was sent sprawling backwards. Though, it almost seemed irrelevant to me. I knew I would get there the next attempt. Time blurred. Every time I was hit just seconds away, and every time I got back up the street got a little wider and she became slightly less distinguishable. Until, I was just standing. Alone. No people. No stairs. Only the sun and the street. A life of endless coasting. Nothing to crash into. Nothing to crash for.