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Old 04-08-2003, 02:35 AM   #46
cosmo949
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was travelling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anestetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uraguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could
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Old 04-08-2003, 02:50 AM   #47
nycwriters
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was travelling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anestetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uraguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and
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Old 04-08-2003, 06:32 PM   #48
sybil
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was travelling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anestetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uraguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, 'I'm pregnant." I could
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Old 04-08-2003, 11:42 PM   #49
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was travelling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anestetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uraguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away
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Old 04-09-2003, 12:24 AM   #50
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot
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Old 04-10-2003, 04:17 PM   #51
sybil
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended
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Old 04-10-2003, 06:12 PM   #52
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at
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Old 04-11-2003, 12:42 AM   #53
danh
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered
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Old 04-11-2003, 08:25 AM   #54
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she
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Old 04-11-2003, 08:50 AM   #55
nycwriters
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Posts: 4,134
Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis
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Old 04-11-2003, 12:11 PM   #56
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis could not believe she was turned on by a blast of snot, he thought to himself, "hey, whatever gets her going." As the seconds ticked by
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Old 04-11-2003, 02:03 PM   #57
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis could not believe she was turned on by a blast of snot, he thought to himself, "hey, whatever gets her going." As the seconds ticked by, Travis realized his left foot had gone numb again and he was losing his balance. "What the..." she mumbled
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Old 04-16-2003, 04:39 PM   #58
nycwriters
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Join Date: Oct 2002
Location: Floundering
Posts: 4,134
Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis could not believe she was turned on by a blast of snot, he thought to himself, "hey, whatever gets her going." As the seconds ticked by, Travis realized his left foot had gone numb again and he was losing his balance. "What the..." she mumbled as she watched Travis fall below her hemline.

He looked up sheepishly, but not before
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Old 04-16-2003, 09:00 PM   #59
Cicatrice
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis could not believe she was turned on by a blast of snot, he thought to himself, "hey, whatever gets her going." As the seconds ticked by, Travis realized his left foot had gone numb again and he was losing his balance. "What the..." she mumbled as she watched Travis fall below her hemline.

He looked up sheepishly, but not before feeling the sharp jab of pain in his left foot. This sudden return of sensation was
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Old 04-16-2003, 09:17 PM   #60
nycwriters
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Join Date: Oct 2002
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Tuesday morning Travis awoke to the sound of his roommate yelling at him for the dishes in the sink. He sighed, rolled over and solemnly picked his nose for awhile. He began to ruminate about his new life, and just exactly how he had ended up this way. The freedom he used to take for granted had evaporated with the new demands of work and all those unpaid bills. What had he been envisioning when he made up his mind to run? What thoughts pushed their way 'round Travis's supernaturally round head were typically unininteresting and this morning was no exception.

He rolled over and pulled the sheets over his eyes. If only the little man in the corner store had been wrong in predicting his future. It scared him to think that he may indeed have to run again, if they found out. You see, he had always been in love with the idea of becoming a storyteller. But this dream had been cut short by his frequent yet random episodes of profound paranoia. The little man had been experimenting with several types of homemade pharmaceuticals, searching for deeper meaning and freedom within these newfound realms. His favorite experience was traveling throughout India, hiking up the highest mountains and hang-gliding off. As a result, he had frequent loss of feeling, a numbness, in his left foot.

Trying to get the blood out of his shirt in the bathroom sink, Travis further pondered the little man's story. He'd had to return to the States to bury his half-brother. He'd been sick since his last week in the high country. A bacterial infection from a local anesthetic that he was given was just recently linked to 35 deaths in Uruguay. Hopefully, his case was less severe in its final outcome. There was still plenty of work to be done, and he wasn't going to let a little case of the runs keep him from doing it. He told all of this to Travis before he finally came to the thing Travis least wanted to hear: "They know where you are."

Just as matter of fact and conversational as a New York stock broker informs his client of a gang of elephants threatening to steal his car, the little man dropped his bit of information with an all-knowing grin. Travis would have rather heard about elephants, but his left foot was going numb again as he ran the cold water, and he had to acknowledge the fact that he couldn't even run from where he was. If they decided to come and get him, then he could forget all about his laundry. He would have to find the one person he knew who could give him answers.

Yes, the woman that most called drunk from a phone booth after last call. He'd met her in a laundromat while looking for quarters behind the machines. Her voice was a testament to years of smoking and heavy drinking. It was the most uninhibited sound he'd ever heard. A strange power radiated from her--he found her without much conscious effort. The alley seemed vacant and reeked of urine but in a dim corner of Travis' mind he saw himself as George Peppard and this chain smoking venus as Audrey Hepburn.

"It should be raining and there should be a bad guy lurking round the corner with a gun," she said and lit another cigarette.

"Yeah but then you'd be too busy pretending to ignore me, and I wouldn't be able to buy you dinner and pick your brain," Travis told her. Her name was always on the tip of his tongue, even on days when he hardly knew his own. He hadn't seen her in what seemed like ages. It was doubtful she would remember the thread of their last conversation, which he had attempted to turn to something more than what always amounted in the end to a teasingly worded exchange of information. Then, he had felt certain of success, for it was never his intention to become seriously involved.

As his thoughts progressed awkwardly, he headed toward the Pic 'N' Pay on the corner, beckoning for her to follow. "Come on, you can't have any allegiance to that bastard still. He's so dark and self absorbed he's started to bend light. Let's get a Slushie and let me tell you all I've learned about your mystery man". He could see this was the wrong thing to say immediately it was out of his mouth. She visibly withdrew and stared intensely at her shoes. She started to say something and then paused, the words were just too hard to say. "Travis," she started again, "I'm not some kind of oracle, you know. Those mysteries you keep pursuing could very well be around the next corner, or found with the next person you meet."

She sighed and heedlessly tossed her cigarette butt into a nearby puddle. Further away a cat emerged from a small wooden crate as if to complete the surreal "Breakfast at Tiffany's" parody playing out in Travis's wee little mind. He stifled a giggle and snot flew out of his nose like buckshot. He pretended not to notice but felt his face go hot and his mind flicker with embarrassment. He quickly glanced at her - she was looking intensely at the enormous trail of snot falling from his nose and onto her shoes. As she shook her head, he stammered "H-Ho-How about them Jets?" as he turned and wiped his face on his sleeve. When he turned back she suddenly pulled him into a passionate embrace, sending him reeling. Travis could not believe she was turned on by a blast of snot, he thought to himself, "hey, whatever gets her going." As the seconds ticked by, Travis realized his left foot had gone numb again and he was losing his balance. "What the..." she mumbled as she watched Travis fall below her hemline.

He looked up sheepishly, but not before feeling the sharp jab of pain in his left foot. This sudden return of sensation was enough to break him from the reverie of what he saw when he looked up.

He blushed and
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