expletive, Flash

Hollywood,1967

I don’t care if you’re black, yellow, red. Heck, I don’t even care if you’re a woman or nah. I don’t discriminate. I hate ya all. Simple as that. Get it? Got it? Good. Now scram you little piece of trash.
We ran and laughed at the same time, our lungs in agony for the most part. We knew Rory, had known him for years. But he didn’t know us, he never did. He always seemed to live in his own world, a fabric made of smoke, the scent of piss and a peculiar dose of alcohol. That’s what we thought. And as rumors had it, he had been occupying this particular corner of the street for decades now, even more so. Max even assumed the guy could reincarnate, that he had been living there in his pastlives too. I told him to shut the hell up, nobody reincarnates, and losers like Rory sure as hell don’t.
“Who gives a crap about his stories anyway?” I said as we entered the garden.
“Well my dad used to tell me stuff about Rory” Max answered.
Joe and I looked at him, I grinned.
“Your dad? Stuff?” Continue reading

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