Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

The isolated incident

Washing the blood from your hands you stop and think “where the fuck am I” You know that your at a lake and the cool crisp thawing air is all around, but your not sure of much else. The sky is purple and you know that. There is a feeling in your gut like the one you get after black out night at bars. You see an animal dead, and you are relived that it is not human. Then you are disgusted it is a dog.

You came out here to be away from it. But the demons had followed in skip the golden retriever. After a steak dinner, the last of you supply, and a bottle of whiskey which you have a plentiful supply, the dog starts with the moaning at the table. Looking up at you with consumer eyes of the customers at the ‘gap’ you can’t stand it and smash the bottle of whiskey. Only after the ride home in the car do you remember this in the hospital.

I sit in big echo hall and look at the floor. black white black white, white stained with yellow urin. My poor Dog.

My name is Frank I worked in the costomer service department at the "gap." My name is Frank and it drove me crazy that no one cared about what I had to say. It drove me out to the lake. There no one was around so that was the reason no one spoke to me.

My girl friend was going out with me to get a discount. She was well dressed. I wore tattered rags.

--Things happen in the world that make me feel bad. I want to be profound.--I tell my doctors--there there--they say...