willterrytragic (willterrytragic) wrote in 100stories,

credit system suicide

I tracked across the train yard with Baskins trailing a white Sudafed color behind me talking and talking. I kept a good check on the compass, and made sure my direction was continually southwest. You can’t travel in a straight line through an entire city though. I occasionally had to veer south or west. When I would go south, I would feel the pressure of work wearing me like a strait jacket. To the west, the death dial tone.
Baskins kept rattling on. I started laying things in his path to thwart him. I would turn over abandoned shopping carts, break discarded beer bottles, I even tried to scale a barb wire fence but he was already on the other side by the time I got stabbed by barbs. Nothing is worse than fake work friendships. You associate with those people the way cashiers associate with condoms. They really have nothing to do with each other but under formally uncomfortable circumstances, they interact.

(remainder of story at http://willterrytragic.livejournal.com/34390.html)
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