Fuckness by Prunty Andersen

Author:Prunty, Andersen [Prunty, Andersen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Unknown
Published: 2011-03-13T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

The Boy With Horns

Eventually I found my way out of the alley. The laughter had died down and I knew there was a foreboding wave of darkness waiting for me. I wondered why, when I had feelings of intense joy or happiness, I could always sense that black wave, cresting above and threatening to crash down on me at any time but, when I was actually having one of my sad spells, it felt like it was never going to end—like I would never get the happiness back.

I figured it must have been around two or three o’clock in the morning. Most of the businesses looked like they were closing up for the night. A few of the neon signs flickered and then went off. The people in the streets were twice as loud as they were earlier. I’m pretty sure this had something to do with them being twice as drunk as they were earlier. The people in pairs or groups engaged in overly militant babble. They were either going to go somewhere else and, “fuck some shit up,” “get into some shit,” or, apparently if there was no shit already in existence, they were going to “start some shit.” The winos and drunks who were alone wandered along the street, sometimes losing their way and actually curving into the street, mumbling things under their breath, vigorous and confused conversations, imbued with an unusual passion. Or they screamed various names out loud. Sometimes they yelled them at random windows above the bars, “Tina! Tina!!” Sometimes they merely yelled them at the heavens, as though crooning for some lover who was dead and gone or maybe, depending on their blood-alcohol level, never there in the first place.

There weren’t many cars in this section of the Tar District. I assumed most of these people were either too poor to own cars or, more probable, had long ago had their licenses revoked for vehicular manslaughter. Whenever a car did come into sight, it traveled at speeds highly inappropriate. A loud roar, a flash of lights, and they were gone.

I tried to stay out of the faint pool of the streetlamps so no one could see me. I secretly willed the horns to go away. Without them, I didn’t think anyone would really even notice me. By the standards presented around me, I wasn’t even exceptionally ugly. I moved slowly, barely lifting my feet off the cement. My body was essentially numb, but I felt that grinding bonefeel starting up in the joints. If I stopped to rest again, I was sure I wouldn’t be able to deal with the pain of moving.

I knew Uncle Skad lived by the river and I figured it was maybe two miles at most in front of me. Slowly, I had wandered out of the lively section of the Tar District and into what the mother and father called the slums. Apparently, even though Walnut was a horrible, hideous place to live, it was still better than the slums of the Tar District.

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