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| The Benightedness of Wanderers. | Started by: Vicodin on Mar 15, '09 11:54 |
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Sitting outside of his retirement home, which was overlooking a part of downtown Los Angeles, a nostalgic Vicodin stared at the evening lights, slowly being turned off one by one while sunrise was approaching. Seeing a light but noticeable cloud of smog hovering over the top of the city, he decided to take a trip down to a cafe he didn't frequent for ages; Walking down the streets of Wilshire Boulevard, he catches a glimpse of a boy wearing practically rags, being no more than 19 years of age. Approaching closer, the boy approached Vicodin and spoke to him. "Spare some change?" Revealing a small pistol lodged in his pants, the boy shoved his hand in the direction of Vicodin. "Your wallet, old man." Chuckling, he pulled out his wallet and slowly inched it towards the boy's hand, before grabbing it and twisting his arm behind him, managing to grab his pistol in the process. "Have you the slightest idea what you're doing, kid?" Disassembling the pistol, he tossed the empty barrel to the side. "You couldn't be older than a teenager, and you're threatening people with a gun? What are you expecting out of this life? Are you planning on spending a lifetime in jail?" "Let me tell you something, boy. There are other ways of providing sustenance than wandering around in this city plaguing members of society." He motions his head towards a nearby gas station. "Do you see this place? There are dozens of them popping up everywhere. With the automobile industry flexing its muscles in Detroit, these kind of places are going to be one of the most profitable businesses in America one day. There's a large chunk of money to be made in these places - but now, look where you are. You're sitting at the bottom of the food chain, killing and robbing innocent citizens without thinking for one iota of a second that there could be a different way of going about your business. These are things you have to consider before acting. Just look at what you're wearing - do you really expect anyone to respect you in this world if you look like a homeless cretin that woke up under Union Station? Some food for thought." Picking up his wallet and throwing the gaunt boy a fifty dollar bill, he continued on with business as usual, stopping by at the cafe he was originally planning on visiting. Returning down the same path he came, he noticed a small squad of officers blocking one side of the road. Managing to get a solid view of the opposite end of the street, he noticed the very same boy with a pool of blood circling around his body, with a knife only inches away from his hand. It has seemed fairly common nowadays to find yourself being confronted by a new member of this community who lacks any and all regard to their manner of appearance, respect, or honor - I have seen numerous people over my lifetime killed over disobeying very simple, concise and clear rules. Ignorance seems to be the prevailing language among them. Even with hours upon hours spent teaching them the ropes, they have no problem spitting in your face and disobeying even the simplest order. They are without a clue to how we live our lifestyles. Sighing, he makes his way towards the long and windy streets back to his hospice. |
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Kids these days with their loud music and tight clothes. Ember shakes her head in amazement Good call, Vicodin. It's hard to find respect in the world we live in. |
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| Reply by: Ember at Mar 15, '09 22:44 | |
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