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Monday the 13th

What's worse than Friday the 13th?  Monday the 13th!  She says as roll my eyes and continue down the hall.

***

He's sitting there at his computer, doing the same ol' thing.  Reading people's blogs, trying to write in his own.  Sad because Heroes won't be on for another week.  Sadder because he can't shake that damn feeling.  He thinks to himself that Prison Break is better than he expected, he also wonders why he has such a crush on Clea Duvall.  He always has, she's not like "conventional pretty", but she's pretty nonetheless.  Who knows.  That's when __ walks in. 

He's pulled out of his chair before he can speak.  Thrown on the ground, CD's, DVD's, books fly all over the room.  He can't defend himself, he's being dragged by his hair, the front door's open.  A weak attempt is made, he's trying to defend himself, but he's not trying hard.  That's always been his problem.  There's no fighting it, he gives in, hell, he welcomes it.  Thump.  Thump.  Thump.  Crash.  The first flight of stairs really hurt.  He thinks he lost a tooth somewhere, he can imagine what his smile looks like, empty spaces, a bloody mess.  The question is, why is he smiling?  __ picks him up off the landing, it's amazing how such a big guy is being tossed around like a rag doll.  __ smiles, he smiles back.  "Get your shit together".  __ says to him.  All he can do is sheepishly smile back.  What the fuck is wrong with him, __ thinks to __self as he's once again tossed down the stairs.  Thump.  Thump.  Crack.  That didn't sound good.  He's starting to black out, the last thing he sees is __ shaking __ head at him.  As he loses consciousness he thinks to himself, this is exactly what I needed, where were you when...

***

Fuck, I've been staring at this damn screen for an hour, IM'ing on and off.  I did a lot today, insurance crap, ASM stuff, got parts for the Jeep, I'm beat.  I should probably just go to bed.

I hope my thoughts quiet down.

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