The lazy drunken bastard rose from the dusty corner where he had settled to enjoy his cheap wine. Wine, as everybody knows, is best enjoyed in the corner of a forgotten shop far away from the Capitalist world. He was the kind of guy who was unsure whether he had to take his responsibilities as an individual in society, or just give up and let the tides of misery carry him around. He had been working as a maritime broker but he wasn't very sure why he didn't have the job anymore - he had lied to everyone and had already started to confound reality with the numerous versions he gave for being jobless.
His legs were carrying him nowhere, and he allowed himself to be guided by the wind. Far away, an engine roared, and a car appeared. A youngster's head popped out of a window and he heard:
-Ta, clochard! To fer villain lor la rie!
Clochard. Tramp. He turned back to look at the tramp the young man had been making fun of. There was no-one but him on the road. His eyes darted from left to right, more and more desperate to see the tramp. Could it be? It was slowly dawning on him that he was the tramp. Tramp. What had happened to the once brilliant and good looking Roy? Tramp. What would his family think? Tramp. He would never get laid again.
The last bits and pieces of his own self-respect faded away with the wind, like the fine grains of a sand-castle.
1 comment:
Awesome mate!Dunno whether it's fact or fiction, but it sure reflects reality.
You have a good writing style:)There's a flow to ur ideas....
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