Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Based on the amount of liquid spurted out, the blond man hadn't been dead very long.  Moving the very dead, the dried up, the bones, that was my bread and butter.  At the mercy of indelicate hands, the freshly dead could prove to be messy, mooshy guinea pigs.

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

There was no malice.  Kris was nice.  But we were four.  Four-year-olds are locked in a constant quest to give each other poo-poo undies. 

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

The traffic lights changed.  Waiting drivers honked their horns.  The pedestrians, my victims, didn't seem too overly enthused about busting a move and accommodating the motorists.  The horns joined by yells and the unveiling of a good half-dozen middle fingers.  Seattleites greeting each other.    

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

The hole in the wall looked about as big as a dinner plate.  Game Room dust sifted out and around the rim like a wind blew, picking up and pollinating particle to all points beyond.  It was threads of dust, not a thick stream.  Not the torrents of red rust I'd seen elsewhere.

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Most of Denny's wall was covered by superhero posters, but there was one poster of Jimi Hendrix playing guitar in a super psychedelic design, Jimi all red and green and seeming to flutter and flicker no matter your vantage point.

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Lumbering from Ashton Hospital to The Dirty Dan I put Vise Head though his paces.  Snapped his fingers.  Moved his whiskered, punch-dented lower jaw back and forth.  Made him say, "I'm Batman," about a dozen times.  Spit.  Hopped up and down.  Even spanked that butt.  I was good.  Whatever I commanded, he did. 

Surfer On The Drift

From today:

Some inhabitants worked, either in town or out on farms, some were too deeply enmeshed in therapy or rehab to focus on work or anything other than emotional or physical healing.  And some walked the sun-blasted lawn all day long smoking and looking at their cell phones, like a preview of a poorly funded Heaven where you could exist, but mostly just subsist on a steady stream of nicotine and data.