Sunday, January 31, 2016

Jack cussed. He started at 12. Jack smoked. He started at 14. Jack drank. He’d started at 15. Jack fucked. He started at 19. Jack wasted time and got wasted. Jack was a waste. Jack loved and lost and loved again. Losing quit meaning so much. Jack thought and he wondered, but not too long, not too hard. Jack smoked and drank and fucked and got wasted and gave up and tried again, and never gave it too much thought. Jack looked at the clock. Time moved slowly when it shouldn’t and time moved fast when it shouldn’t. Jack asked Eleanor if she liked that musical group. She didn’t. Eleanor smoked, and drank, and cussed. Jack wondered if she’d fuck, how she’d fuck. Jack and Eleanor got wasted. They didn’t fuck. When they woke up, it was late as hell. 


  1. Lmfao I like the ending of this "story" !

  2. I read that as "farted" at first, and it was a completely different twist ending!

  3. I am Jack's alcoholism; I make Jack drink. I make Jack late.

    Jack seems like an alright guy.

    - Chris A.