Post by mic on Dec 15, 2008 10:50:40 GMT -5
God it was cold. What was it? November? December? June? Mich couldn't remember. He had lost count of the days and months years ago. Everything was all the same now. Get up, drink, dig up something edible, eat, maybe kill something, drink, pass out, get up, do everything all over again. If he was lucky there might be some socializing thrown in the mix but that as rare. Who would he want to talk to? Who would want to talk to him?
"Hey buddy, can you spare a drink?" A raspy voice interrupted Mich's daydreaming. The dark-haired wolf opened one eye and looked up at the guy who was standing over him and eying the partly empty bottle of vodka that Mich was cradling in the crook of his arm.
The guy had woke him up for this?
"Fuck off!" Mich snarled as he curled his lips back and bared his teeth at the homeless bum. Instead of being shocked the old hobo just sighed, eyed the bottle once more, and shuffled off in search of a drink that would result in less of a hassle. It was to early in the afternoon to start brawling for booze.
Mich's eyes followed the man's figure until the guy turned a corner and was out of sight. Only then did Mich raise his head and take stock of his surroundings.
A set of filthy stairs started right beside him and made their way to the street and sidewalk, which could explain why he was so damn cold. Passing out at the foot of a set of subway stairs wasn't the best place to sleep off the activities from the night before. Yet Mich had wound up in worse. He still had his liquor bottle. He considered himself lucky.
"Mmmmmmmm." Mich yawned as he slowly began to uncurl himself out of the fetal position he had been snoozing in for the past few hours and lazily stretched himself out. Cold concrete and ceramic tile really weren't very comfortable. Ah well. That was what the booze was for.
Mich uncapped the bottle and took a long swing of the stuff. It didn't quite wake him up but it was close enough.
Ahhhh Faster Pussycat had gotten that much right. Lame train indeed.
Mich smiled slightly as he sat up and rested against the graffiti covered wall behind him. He sat there at the foot of the stairs as the weak afternoon light filtered over him, exposing all the grit, grime and exhaustion that seemed to cover the wolf from the tips of his matted hair to the bottom of his boots. Mich looked no better than the homeless guy who had just passed by. Was he bothered by it? Nope. He was surviving and doing a pretty good job of it, or so he'd like to think.
"Hey buddy, can you spare a drink?" A raspy voice interrupted Mich's daydreaming. The dark-haired wolf opened one eye and looked up at the guy who was standing over him and eying the partly empty bottle of vodka that Mich was cradling in the crook of his arm.
The guy had woke him up for this?
"Fuck off!" Mich snarled as he curled his lips back and bared his teeth at the homeless bum. Instead of being shocked the old hobo just sighed, eyed the bottle once more, and shuffled off in search of a drink that would result in less of a hassle. It was to early in the afternoon to start brawling for booze.
Mich's eyes followed the man's figure until the guy turned a corner and was out of sight. Only then did Mich raise his head and take stock of his surroundings.
A set of filthy stairs started right beside him and made their way to the street and sidewalk, which could explain why he was so damn cold. Passing out at the foot of a set of subway stairs wasn't the best place to sleep off the activities from the night before. Yet Mich had wound up in worse. He still had his liquor bottle. He considered himself lucky.
"Mmmmmmmm." Mich yawned as he slowly began to uncurl himself out of the fetal position he had been snoozing in for the past few hours and lazily stretched himself out. Cold concrete and ceramic tile really weren't very comfortable. Ah well. That was what the booze was for.
Mich uncapped the bottle and took a long swing of the stuff. It didn't quite wake him up but it was close enough.
"I'm on the lame train
I got a first-class ticket on the nonstop to nowhere
Where it takes me I don't know
I guess the tracks you make are your own
It's like a chain gang going I know the exit
But my problems seem to follow me
Wherever I go
Nonstop to nowhere."
I got a first-class ticket on the nonstop to nowhere
Where it takes me I don't know
I guess the tracks you make are your own
It's like a chain gang going I know the exit
But my problems seem to follow me
Wherever I go
Nonstop to nowhere."
Ahhhh Faster Pussycat had gotten that much right. Lame train indeed.
Mich smiled slightly as he sat up and rested against the graffiti covered wall behind him. He sat there at the foot of the stairs as the weak afternoon light filtered over him, exposing all the grit, grime and exhaustion that seemed to cover the wolf from the tips of his matted hair to the bottom of his boots. Mich looked no better than the homeless guy who had just passed by. Was he bothered by it? Nope. He was surviving and doing a pretty good job of it, or so he'd like to think.