ASLEEP AT THE BOTTLE

by basil rotterdam.

It was now 11 o'clock in the morning,the sun was making it's way through the rips and holes of the tattered curtains.The dust filtered through the air and danced in the rays of sunlight.And in that dingy hotel room...there he sat,already drunk,for the day was just beginning.He sat at the table,cigarrete in one hand..beer in the other.He made a toast,"To life..may my days grow shorter...and my misery grow longer."It was almost a ritual..this is how he had spent the last five years of his life..ever since she left him.And as the cigarette made its way to the filter and burned his fingers,bringing him out of his trance...he finished his beer and threw the bottle on the floor.The trash can had been full with empty bottles and cigarette packs for weeks now,but he couldn't find the time to take it out.He got up and threw on a dirty white t-shirt and an old pair of work slacks.He made his way to the window,cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth...5 o'clock shadow..working on six.He drew the curtains,the light shined through and burned his eyes.As he opened the window and looked out into the cement sky and fire burning earth,he said "It's a good day to die,in this living hell we call earth."He made his way out the door,through the long cold hallways and down the stairway to hell.He walked down the sidewalks of misery...to the corner liquor store and got a fifth of whiskey.And as he stood on the corner and drank,he watched the people scrambling to their destinations.No time for life...just for work.He watched as the bums shared a cheap bottle of wine called loneliness.He watched as the young runaway girls stood on the corner and sold their ass.He often fantasized about those pretty runaways,he wished he could take one home with him..an innocent one..one he could take care of and live out his perverse sexual desire with.He stuffed the bottle in his back pocket and continued down the sidewalk,making his way to the bar as the empty faces with hollow eyes passed him going the other direction.And the city hate-machines,with their badges of bigotry,hassling the dopers and the daytime whores.He hated his life..he hated his world..A world that depends upon a history of lies.He tried to forget this as he continued his journey,but everywhere he looked there was madness,it filled the air..we live it..we breath it..we are its prey.He kept walking,when he noticed a beautiful girl walking down the street.All of a sudden everything felt like it was in slow motion.This girl had it all..the curves..the walk..the way she shook her ass.The way she brought her cigarette to her mouth and wrapped her pouty lips around it...inhaling death,and exhaling it ever so gently.As she walked by,she smiled..that bitchy little smile...with a sparkle of mischeif/dollar signs in her eyes.She was a suicide girl,the kind you would die for.A real dame.Playing her little games of love/hate..she had every man wrapped around her little finger.She passed him,exiting his life just as quickly as she had entered.He just kept walking..he knew better than to go chasing after a girl like that..she was dangerous,it was the same kind of girl that had ruined his life five years ago.Besides,the bar was only a couple more blocks away.The bar was his heaven..his mecca..the promised land.A place where he could forget all the madness and hatred that infected the world like the plague.There he was,all alone,searching for his salvation.A smoke in his mouth and a whiskey on his breath..walking the streets like a madman..believing in something that didn't exist.He never made it to the bar.Just another death on a city street.Alone,just like always.Nobody even stopped,death was all too common.It's a rat race and everybody wants their piece of cheese.In the end...nobody cares.He never made it to heaven...he died in hell.

e-mail me and tell me what you think of my story at crisp2@hotmail.com

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