Friday, February 18, 2011

Head Talk

Gas station. Perfect. How long's it been since it was in workin' order? Let's see... bombs hit in '58... I've seen at least 17 winters... Hell, 's been nearly 2 decades! Good thing petroleum don't go bad.
Sh*t! What-if the tank's done pumped dry?! Damn outsiders... hoarders, fear mongers, filthy rats hole'n up in their filthy shacks...
car needs gas... car needs gas...
Why'd I have to end up with this hunk'a metal? Junk. That's what it is... and it sucks up the fuel like nobody's business...
Damn car. Damn gas...

F**K! Damn thing's bone dry! Bastards! No good bastards! What the HELL am I supposed to do with this pile of scrap metal with 'n empty tank?!

...this sh*thole got any liquor...

2 comments:

  1. I love that you titled your interior monologue "head talk."

    I also love that a gas station totally brings out this character-- it's the perfect place to be cantankerous and ornery...

    Lovely job,

    Mrs. Onkst

    ReplyDelete