Let us give that which has almost been completed a bit of time on the blog. Hell, what is the point of having a blog if you can't shamelessly plug things every-so-often, right? Would make a second blog all about stories and art and blah blah blah, but that is what dA is for and why internet artist people have them.
Example: DudelRok @ deviantArt
So shameless plug of general dA account out of the way let us post the story chapter one and let it be done. However it should be noted that while this is the first chapter there is more to it both before and after. Soon to be finished as well.
~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One: Meet Mr. Nothing
Excerpt: (The) Novella
"What a beautiful day," I wake up to start my day as I have always started it, with a lie. Saying the words that don't come out the way intended, this day is not beautiful. It's the middle of winter, my heater is broken and the rain is heavy. Today is not a beautiful day in the slightest. "Come on Whiskers," I call for my cat who I don't even remember bringing home, as I shift from my matted sheets. Sheets on a bed that are sitting on top of rotten wood, the floor could give away at any minute but, "It's such a beautiful day." I only remember seeing the cat once but that could have been a dream, I don't really remember. Whiskers doesn't come to me but he never does, or was Whiskers a girl cat? It doesn't really matter.
I stand from that bed, cracking my back and neck as I stretch my hands to the ceiling. My palms graze the very base of my low hanging apartment, the clown above me being only a shout and sneeze away from falling down on top of me. "He's such a funny guy." No he's not. He actually is a clown, which is really creepy. The man works with children and smells like sex, to call him a creep wouldn't be nice to the actual creeps. A clown named Largo who smells of sex and plays with kids, this is not someone you want living above you. "Breakfast, the best meal of the day," I say it like I mean it. My breakfast is three week old butter on month old bread. I'm lucky it doesn't make me sick. I'm lucky it fills me. The fridge is gross, the milk's gone bad, "Shopping can wait."
My apartment isn't made for more than one tenant, though it feels like nine of us are here. It is just me and the cat, Whiskers, wherever she's gone. The food I put out for that thing always gets eaten, though I do leave the window by the fire escape open; could be raccoons or the homeless that come in here to eat the only fresh food in my home, everything else has gone past its expiration almost a week ago. "Today's gonna be great! Such a good way to start the day," God I can't stand myself. I'm so perky and morning friendly it makes me sick, though that could be breakfast coming up to wish me a good lunch. Lunch, I guess I'll be skipping it today, not enough money to even buy myself some cigarettes. "I don't smoke," Yes I do.
Such a long and tedious drive to a workplace with a name I can't even pronounce. It has six X's and a Q in that title, no one can say it. It's kind of understood that if you nod your head after being asked where you work that you work at Six X and Q. Then you could say Six X and Q when asked but you'd never say it if you worked there. Someone else might say it but I couldn't or wouldn't or shouldn't, I don't know. "I can't wait for the meeting this morning." That'll be a lot of fun. Every meeting is just some tight shirt telling the rest of us what we did or didn't do correctly. Even praise from them sounds like a tongue lashing,
"Hey, Erick," Guess I'm at work, now. "Coming to the game with us after work?" I could lie to him but no matter what I say it's the wrong answer. I'll just sit here and pretend I don't hear him, which works sometimes. "Erik, man, you coming?" Ignore him, the moron whose name I don't even remember will go away. "Erik?" He waits for me to respond, "Whatever dude." The guy waves off and leaves me to a long and tedious day in this 5 x 5 cubicle, five feet in every direction except the diagonal. I don't know how they added an extra two inches to the diagonal with this little box being a perfect square but they managed to do it. I sat here for three days trying to figure the math on that one, but I probably measured wrong. At least I actually used three days in doing something productive.
Ah shit, coffee on my shirt. That's a pain in the ass, "That's funny." No, it's not funny! It's a pain in the ass! I don't even remember getting dressed this morning, but I'm here and working in my white dress shirt and black dress pants with a coffee stain now on both. Good thing I apparently forgot to wear a tie, I'll get marked up for that. It doesn't matter, though, I'll never get punished. People could walk past me while I had my dick out and not a single eyelash would be batted. "They keep us organized and safe at the workplace," I really need to just keep my mouth shut. I think staples would work for that but the pain wouldn't be much fun. Can't get benefits for something you did to yourself. Maybe I could get Dave from accounting to staple my face shut? "He's an idiot, he might just do it," Yeah, what an idiot. Wow, I think I need to get a better rest; I'm hearing things I shouldn't be hearing.
Finally home, that drive was a pain in the ass. Angry drivers pretending and saying they just had the best day of their life. Beeping horns and throwing out rude gestures just because their mouths don't seem to want to work. "Their mouths work." No they don't, not really. Ah crap, my neighbor is out in the hallway. Not that clown freak that's above me, this is a lot better. She's a single mother with a kind face. She's always calling me all sorts of names; I could have her if I wanted to send the kids out for awhile. Fifty bucks would buy me more time with a whore, though; it's probably not worth the effort. "Looking fatter today," I smile and say hello.
"Fucking pervert," She mutters and goes into her room. She'll later tend to herself after her kids are in bed. She'll think of all the men that won't touch her and fall asleep unsatisfied. It's funny; actually knowing this woman would do anything for just thirty minutes of me time but not wanting to pay her kids to leave her alone for the thirty. She'll learn or she'll be happy with her solo matches.
"Whiskers?" I ask the room to find my cat; like it can here me or that the cat is even real. The food I left is gone just like it was gone this morning, I'm feeding something. I do have a couple rats but that is what the cat is for. Maybe I should stop feeding the cat because I do find a couple dead rats every so often when I do. That's probably a threat from Whiskers. A sign or label to say that I'm next on his list of things to kill if his dish isn't full before I leave for work that day. Guess I'll feed him, or her, whatever. "Here kitty, it smells good." That's an obvious lie. Anyone who has smelled wet cat food knows whiffing your own shit is more appealing. At least you know exactly where your own shit has been.
Example: DudelRok @ deviantArt
So shameless plug of general dA account out of the way let us post the story chapter one and let it be done. However it should be noted that while this is the first chapter there is more to it both before and after. Soon to be finished as well.
~~~~~~~~~
Chapter One: Meet Mr. Nothing
Excerpt: (The) Novella
"What a beautiful day," I wake up to start my day as I have always started it, with a lie. Saying the words that don't come out the way intended, this day is not beautiful. It's the middle of winter, my heater is broken and the rain is heavy. Today is not a beautiful day in the slightest. "Come on Whiskers," I call for my cat who I don't even remember bringing home, as I shift from my matted sheets. Sheets on a bed that are sitting on top of rotten wood, the floor could give away at any minute but, "It's such a beautiful day." I only remember seeing the cat once but that could have been a dream, I don't really remember. Whiskers doesn't come to me but he never does, or was Whiskers a girl cat? It doesn't really matter.
I stand from that bed, cracking my back and neck as I stretch my hands to the ceiling. My palms graze the very base of my low hanging apartment, the clown above me being only a shout and sneeze away from falling down on top of me. "He's such a funny guy." No he's not. He actually is a clown, which is really creepy. The man works with children and smells like sex, to call him a creep wouldn't be nice to the actual creeps. A clown named Largo who smells of sex and plays with kids, this is not someone you want living above you. "Breakfast, the best meal of the day," I say it like I mean it. My breakfast is three week old butter on month old bread. I'm lucky it doesn't make me sick. I'm lucky it fills me. The fridge is gross, the milk's gone bad, "Shopping can wait."
My apartment isn't made for more than one tenant, though it feels like nine of us are here. It is just me and the cat, Whiskers, wherever she's gone. The food I put out for that thing always gets eaten, though I do leave the window by the fire escape open; could be raccoons or the homeless that come in here to eat the only fresh food in my home, everything else has gone past its expiration almost a week ago. "Today's gonna be great! Such a good way to start the day," God I can't stand myself. I'm so perky and morning friendly it makes me sick, though that could be breakfast coming up to wish me a good lunch. Lunch, I guess I'll be skipping it today, not enough money to even buy myself some cigarettes. "I don't smoke," Yes I do.
Such a long and tedious drive to a workplace with a name I can't even pronounce. It has six X's and a Q in that title, no one can say it. It's kind of understood that if you nod your head after being asked where you work that you work at Six X and Q. Then you could say Six X and Q when asked but you'd never say it if you worked there. Someone else might say it but I couldn't or wouldn't or shouldn't, I don't know. "I can't wait for the meeting this morning." That'll be a lot of fun. Every meeting is just some tight shirt telling the rest of us what we did or didn't do correctly. Even praise from them sounds like a tongue lashing,
"Hey, Erick," Guess I'm at work, now. "Coming to the game with us after work?" I could lie to him but no matter what I say it's the wrong answer. I'll just sit here and pretend I don't hear him, which works sometimes. "Erik, man, you coming?" Ignore him, the moron whose name I don't even remember will go away. "Erik?" He waits for me to respond, "Whatever dude." The guy waves off and leaves me to a long and tedious day in this 5 x 5 cubicle, five feet in every direction except the diagonal. I don't know how they added an extra two inches to the diagonal with this little box being a perfect square but they managed to do it. I sat here for three days trying to figure the math on that one, but I probably measured wrong. At least I actually used three days in doing something productive.
Ah shit, coffee on my shirt. That's a pain in the ass, "That's funny." No, it's not funny! It's a pain in the ass! I don't even remember getting dressed this morning, but I'm here and working in my white dress shirt and black dress pants with a coffee stain now on both. Good thing I apparently forgot to wear a tie, I'll get marked up for that. It doesn't matter, though, I'll never get punished. People could walk past me while I had my dick out and not a single eyelash would be batted. "They keep us organized and safe at the workplace," I really need to just keep my mouth shut. I think staples would work for that but the pain wouldn't be much fun. Can't get benefits for something you did to yourself. Maybe I could get Dave from accounting to staple my face shut? "He's an idiot, he might just do it," Yeah, what an idiot. Wow, I think I need to get a better rest; I'm hearing things I shouldn't be hearing.
Finally home, that drive was a pain in the ass. Angry drivers pretending and saying they just had the best day of their life. Beeping horns and throwing out rude gestures just because their mouths don't seem to want to work. "Their mouths work." No they don't, not really. Ah crap, my neighbor is out in the hallway. Not that clown freak that's above me, this is a lot better. She's a single mother with a kind face. She's always calling me all sorts of names; I could have her if I wanted to send the kids out for awhile. Fifty bucks would buy me more time with a whore, though; it's probably not worth the effort. "Looking fatter today," I smile and say hello.
"Fucking pervert," She mutters and goes into her room. She'll later tend to herself after her kids are in bed. She'll think of all the men that won't touch her and fall asleep unsatisfied. It's funny; actually knowing this woman would do anything for just thirty minutes of me time but not wanting to pay her kids to leave her alone for the thirty. She'll learn or she'll be happy with her solo matches.
"Whiskers?" I ask the room to find my cat; like it can here me or that the cat is even real. The food I left is gone just like it was gone this morning, I'm feeding something. I do have a couple rats but that is what the cat is for. Maybe I should stop feeding the cat because I do find a couple dead rats every so often when I do. That's probably a threat from Whiskers. A sign or label to say that I'm next on his list of things to kill if his dish isn't full before I leave for work that day. Guess I'll feed him, or her, whatever. "Here kitty, it smells good." That's an obvious lie. Anyone who has smelled wet cat food knows whiffing your own shit is more appealing. At least you know exactly where your own shit has been.
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