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Registered: 01/18/05
Posts: 12
Last seen: 12 years, 16 days
Hanging On In Quiet Desperation Is The English Way
    #3691797 - 01/28/05 01:55 AM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Chris was walking down a dirt road, following the line of rocks that have lined the road since he was child. The amber glow of the setting sun reminded him that he must make haste, darkness is rarely anyone's friend. His wife would not look kindly upon another late dinner arrival. Another mile passed the same as before, lush green pastures streched for as long as he could see, in all directions. The only scar on this landscape was the road, beaten down by centuries of foot traffic. Suddenly, off in the distance Chris hears the quiet yelp of what might be a dog. Closing in over the hill up ahead that makes the horizon seem much closer then possible, runs a small blur of brown. He puts down his tackle box and worn fishing pole, and squints to see what beast is running at him. As he un-latched his knife, he realizes that the small blur of an animal is a small Cocker Spaniel with flowing red hair.

"What are you doing out so late boy", Chris inquired.

The dog sat at Chris' feet and looked up, giving out a small bark. Chris reached down to see if the dog's coarse, matted hair covered what could be a coller. To no avail, identification was missing.

"You look you need a bath and a nice meal, follow me boy", Chris said as he reached down to pick up his old fishing gear.

The screen door creaked open as Chris tried to sneak in without distracting his wife. In the kitchen stood a short women, who was rather chubby.

She turned exclaiming, "You're lucky honey, dinner is taking longer then expected.....Awwww who is that?"

"Just a mutt I found walking home, nothing biting today"

"He sure is cute, after dinner I will give him a bath and he can stay here for the night"

"Sounds great hun", Like always, Chris gave in with no argument.

Dinner passed with little conversation, the pot roast was cooked too long. Chris wished to himself that he had caught a nice bass he could of fried up.

"You take care of the dishes, I'm gonna give Red a bath", she said as she stood up from the table.

"You already named him Jen? You know we might have to give him back"

"Well, I can care for him while we have him, anways....I don't think we will be looking for this dog's owner"

"That is one extra mouth to feed"

"Yeah, another mouth I will have to feed", Jen picked up Red and walked upstairs. As Chris sat down to watch television, he heard the water turn on above him. A few minute later the wet dog ran downstairs and hopped on Chris' lap.

Distraught over this, Chris yells "SHIT!"

Jen replies,"Oh be quiet you big pussy, I'm going to bed...you know where the towels are"

Chris flipped through the local stations and finally settled on the sports report.

"Damn, fucking lost again, this day has sure been shitty Red.... car broke down, fish weren't biting and I have to deal with ol' yeller upstairs"

The dog gave Chris a puzzled look and Chris said back,"I must be going crazy, talking to a dog".

"Well maybe if you would stop being such a faggot and tell that bitch to step off, you would have less shit to deal with", Red replied.


"No, I'm fucking telepathic.... of course I fucking talk you retard"

"And with the mouth of a sailor.... Christ what a day"

Red replies,"All you do is bitch, and don't take our Lord's name in vain"

"This is my fucking house, I will say what I please dog", Chris exclaims, obviously upset.

"Looks to me like that bitch upstairs is running things around here, do you let her fuck you in the ass as well"

Chris gets up and says "I need a drink"

"Make it two, pussy"

"Don't call me a pussy, you fucking little mangy mutt"

The night passed with the two taking shots of bourbon and exchanging stories. Chris stumbled upstairs and fell asleep.

Awoken by a loud gunshot sound, Chris exclaims,"Jesus fucking Christ"

Jen wakes up and inquires,"What the hell is going on"

"I don't know, I'm going downstairs to make sure everything is locked"

"Be careful honey"

Chris slowly made his way downstairs, as usual each step creaked under his wieght. Rounding the botton of the stairs towards the front door the familiar smell of gun powder is taken in. Lying on the living room couch was Red, with a pistol in his hands that were covered in blood and bits of skull. His head, open and gushing with blood and brain matter, rested on the old plaid fabric.

"Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit...what the fuck", in a panic Chris yells.

Jen yells from upstairs,"What is going on honey"

"Don't come down, don't come down, dear god stay upstairs...trust me"

On the coffee table a note was waiting, knowing this wasn't there last night Chris moved in to investigate.

"OH MY GOD CHRIS, WHAT HAS HAPPENED", Jen yells as she round the bottom of the stairs.

"What the fuck did I say....he left a note", Chris asks.

The note reads:

I thank you, big pussy for your kindness in taking me in. I would also like to thank your wife for the bath, she sure did spend a lot of time scrubbing my balls, but you won't see me complaining. Sorry about my brains being all over your house now, but I had to end it all. The feds were on my back, fucking snitches... I won't go off on a tangent. Ah fuck it, this is my last piece of me on paper, I will. I was running a succesful body smuggling operation out of the docks in town. Kidnapping babies and children and shipping them overseas as cheap labor or to be sold on the black market. I know, not very nice, but a dog has to get by. Anyways, somebody ratted my out, and now the feds are fucking everywhere coming after me. Thanks for letting me crash last night, but I really had to end it all.

Peace and be easy,
Alex Smith
P.S. You're a fucking pussy Chris

"Pools of sorrow waves of joy, are drifting through my open mind"
Across The Universe - The Beatles, the anthem to my first mushroom trip

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some kindasomethin'

Registered: 07/23/04
Posts: 324
Last seen: 11 years, 1 month
Re: Hanging On In Quiet Desperation Is The English Way [Re: MyPsyclobinSide]
    #3691827 - 01/28/05 02:04 AM (12 years, 10 months ago)

Thats depressing.

The above statement is completely fictional and composed solely for the purpose of entertainment.

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