Eugh

A really bad short story I wrote like 2 years ago

It was a cold November day, but not like a pleasant breezy day with the leaves in your face and the sun in the sky, one of those awful days were the sky is blacker than a Tyler Perry movie, and wetter than an underwater basket weaving class. I was waiting for the “Don’t Walk” sign to lose its negative attitude at the corner of Willis Road, and Wesley Street, near the old police station which is now a gun shop, I don’t know if this is ironic or not; but hope it is. When the sign changed I treaded puddles and potholes to get to the clothes store on Johnston Ave., on my way I noticed a homeless man screaming foreign profanities and spouting about “Neo-Zionism” and the “New World Order”, he wore a ragged coat and a tuque soaked in water. I was going to listen to his E. Dec-eqse conspiracies more when noticed a ringing in my pocket, I lifted my glorified walkie talkie to see a text from my father, and I decided not to read it because the majority of his texts are along the lines of “You failed me as a son.” Or “I always loved your brother more.” I decided to read the text the text anyway because I have issues with commitment “r u comin ovr 4 thanksgiving?”, I always find it hilarious when people text like that. I decided not to answer, I never came over for thanksgiving and hoped I would never have to, mainly due to my family. My brother especially, I’ve hated him ever since he became my father’s pride and joy, he was always all A’s, Football team, Prom king, and was going to become a “productive member of society” according to my father. My father always hated my life choices, he always thought of me of his burden that he’d support me until I’m 40, that’s I moved out when I was 16, to try to prove him wrong. After to waddling in my own angst for awhile I came to the realization that I was standing in the rain, phone in hand for five minutes now, and I seemed my homeless friend in the ragged coat noticed this as well, and stopped ranting to the wall and rats to approach me. I was paralyzed with fear, thinking he would mug me, or stab me, or alternatively rip out my kidneys and use them as novelty cracker containers. When he finally reached me I was frozen, and soaking wet. He reached into his coat pocket to reveal a tinfoil hat, he gave it to me “Here,” he murmured looking at me “It keeps the reptilians out of your head.” I held the aluminum yamaka for a while and confusingly placed it on my head, “Try to cover it though” he added pulling back his knit cap to reveal a scalp of tin under his hat, “Don’t want them to see it” He left me to return to his soapbox and scream at a young couple about backwards vampires from the dark side of the moon. As my mind tried to comprehend what happened I took my cap out of my bag and placed it over my steel headgear, I  noticed no difference in my judgement and came to the stunning conclusion there are probably not secret lizard people controlling the government; unless thats what they wanted me to think. I decided to go home immediately to slam my head through my television, tell my father I would be coming for Thanksgiving, and jump out the window.

Reviews

[Dayran]

Here's an excellent reason why a son would love his father. It works better than the tin foil hat. But that would obviously take a while ... at least after the basket weaving class ... and after the brother gets conscripted into the army ... and gets sent sent to California to check out free thinkers. And then maybe ... we get to say to ourselves ... that the old man isn't too shabby. Nice job ... Jimmy ... keep writing.