Monday, January 08, 2007

Billy's fists

Billy’s fists were rockets, ready to launch from his pockets. But there they stayed, aware that they were only trouble. They were a document to his anger, scuffed and bruised at the knuckles from too many times spent punching walls, cars, people and mostly her, Gina.
But Gina didn’t care so much as the bruises he left on her skin reminded her that she was someone. They seemed to her to take away her invisibility in this world and she liked to show them off as though they were medals won in various campaigns.
She enjoyed the looks she got and passed off the comments of sympathy as merely envy that she could endure so much. Life was tough and she could take it.
Billy Didn’t like what he had become but for him, there was no stopping his anger.
She was wearing a tank top and shuffling around in her drunk mama’s kitchen like she had nowhere to be, but Billy had an eye to take her away from the house for a while and give her some attention out back at parker’s quarry. She knew it, really and considered her shuffling and meandering across the dirty kitchen to be a primary source of foreplay, seeing as how Billy really wasn’t too much for anything close to what she might have imagined foreplay to be.
Billy considered getting his hand in her pants foreplay enough, and so here he was angry at the world and mostly angry with the shuffle noise that her dirty pink slippers made and he wanted to be there in that moment soon enough, rather than standing in the kitchen of some mean old bitch of a mom, even though he’d already had her one really drunk night. He was Gina’s now, or more importantly and without never a second thought, she was his and he wanted some star light and love back up behind Parker’s Quarry.


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