Letters and Diary Fiction posted June 19, 2016

This work has reached the exceptional level
Diary Fiction-6-19 Potlatch Challenge


by michaelcahill

The author has placed a warning on this post for language.


The bastards. I'm supposed to have some kind of courtesy? I'm in PAIN!!!!! ASSHOLES! I'm dying. I just want a damn shot. So, toss me out on the streets of beautiful downtown Lancaster. Well, gotta hide somewhere. I'm a damn criminal don't ya know. My crime is existing. Yeah, it's a crime to exist here in this town. If you don't amount to shit you best hide your worthless ass away and don't get caught being worthless. VAGRANT. Get the hell out from the front of my store. You're hurting business. Yeah, don't give me a donut, buddy. I just gave my FUCKIN' LEG for you in Nam. No problem. Well, there's Loud Larry. He's an asshole, but he's always got a bottle. I guess that makes me an asshole too.


Air conditioning. Yeah, I'd enjoy this if it weren't for the pain. Cancer hurts. I can imagine it inside me like weevils, man, eating me. I can see them and feel them. It's too fuckin' creepy. And I'm terminal they say. They ain't going to bother doing a thing. If I was someone they would. I sleep in the City of Hope parking lot sometimes. There's a whole string of people going in there. Something is being done for them. They called the cops on me. "This filthy pig won't listen to anything." True fuckin' story. Yep, I'm filthy. Inside and out. It won't be long. I can hear the damn things eating, man. I can smell the shit that used to be my insides. They're eating me alive. Private Jones, checking out.



Wow. The sky is clear. Look at them stars. I haven't seen them in like forever. The pain's not too bad for a change. Loud Larry's even keepin' it at a dull roar. Ha! Son of a bitch walked right out of Albertson's with a fifth of Grey Goose Vodka. The alarm went off and no one even looked up. Maybe I'll rethink my whole God thing. It's cold for a summer day in the desert. I don't mind the cold, desert people never do. It was over a hundred today and miserable. I'll sleep like a baby tonight with this nice chill in the air.




Prose Potlatch Challenge

Diary Fiction - 250 word minimum, at least three entries.

Topic this week - A Terminally Ill Patient

27 minutes to posted

Pays one point and 2 member cents.

Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.

© Copyright 2018. michaelcahill All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
michaelcahill has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.