Peter Satvom smoked his clove cigarette while watching the girls go by in heavy coats. Perfume and cologne spilled into the air and battled. Peter wished he had a mixed drink in a Mcdonald's cup right now, cut through the cold with liquid glory. The cig was nice though, mystical clove taste. A taste from another life. He coughed a bit in the breezing cold night air. All sorts go by, many giving him dirty looks. A couple girls smile at him, they perhaps dig his seven inch goatee, braided with a crescent moon dangling from the end. Or is it his green and silver parachute pants, no no underwear beneath. When Peter was nervous he would twiddle his goatee. Then there's the Straight rockers, mean thugs in they're early twenty's. They hate drugs, homosexuality, half shirts and goatees. They all wear full beards. They give Peter a hard time when they can and if they ever got the chance they would just kill him. Peter Satvom would do the same to them and more so if he had the chance, dirty fucked up thugs with they're holier than thou, God justifies what I do attitudes.
Molly Bee was shopping for parachute pants at the d a v. She had a perfect bride of Frankenstein hair do. She had done a meth foily before coming into the store. She always bought mannequins and mannequin parts, along with funky old hats and other odditys here. She was wearing spandex, red and blue spandex it was. As she shopped she sang softly to herself.
Oh the feeling bubbling through her now, the extreme buzz. She had her own meth lab in her basement. She fished out a stick of caramel apple chewing gum, extracted it from the foil pack-edge and began happy chewing. She liked foil, she bunched it up in her hand, kneading it.
Peter stroked his goatee nervously as he watched the three straight rockers enter the tea house. He had just finished a spontaneous poetry read and was sipping on his fourth coffee. He was glad the bastards didn't arrive in time to hear his poem Straight rockin:
He was tweaking pretty good off the herbal additive coffee. Some edpedra, and betal nut thrown in for good measure. The girls in the coffee house all started talking louder, primping and trying to draw attention to themselves when they saw the straight rockers come in. He counted five of them, including they're midget mascot Drippy VonLow.
The cinnamon flavor of the meth toothpick was fadeing out and she spit it onto a shelf of slightly damaged vintage eighties clock radios and a controller to a extinct game system. She brought the fuzzy ape mask and early seventies book on astral projection to the counter and paid up. Out the door she went, in her purse the beat up voice mini tape recorder she had heisted. Meth is like golden sunshine soaking into your cells, she thought, life flows smooth and has a important aura about it. "I might as well go home and do some more", she told the uncaring world. Molly got on her black and white scooter and took off for home.
that is so nice, being a loser by definition. A genetic loser , and why, kindness the curse. If I was a complete alpha-male asshole the ladies would be all over me, like a yummy new spice. These are the words that Peter wrote in his journal, somewhere off in a dark corner of the coffee shop. Various clicks gathered in small groups, and stared at each other arrogantly. Mr. Satvom watched the pretty blond Asian girl flirt with Drippy VonLow. Even their midget mascot, all fat and warty, gets more attention from the girls then he does. The midget farted loudly and the girl giggled and sat on his lap. Peter decided to just leave, he had a six pack of beer at home waiting for him.
Molly felt so clean when she came down from meth. She took lots of high quality vitamins and minerals and was in good health, despite her drug binges and drinking madness.
Peter gulped down the rest of his coffee and got up to leave. The straight rockers where at the table by the door, they would almost certainly confront him to impress the girls.
Molly decided to go for a coffee at that semi-bohemian coffee house a few blocks away. Some nice coffee before she crashes. She drove thirty five to forty through some grimy back alleys to get there, she saw a street person in one alley, an old white man with Grey shaggy hair, asleep, holding an empty bottle still. She pulled up behind the coffeehouse and dismounted her scooter. She always drove without a helmet. They're was bound to be some creeps in here, she hated it when soulless artist wannabees drooled and followed her about like she was the muse. But coffee was like opium to her a nice relaxing warm drink before bed, when she was a little girl it was hot chocolate, but that was another life.
Peter got up to leave, a very fine tasty looking blonde in pigtails was talking to the leader of the straight rockers, Montie lamle. Montie reached up and tweaked a braid, the girl giggled on cue.
Molly walked into the coffee house, cigarette smoke hung thick in here. She had to step around a pretty blond who was talking to one of those straight rocker creeps.
Peter noticed the interesting girl walking in, she had vivid bride of Frankenstein hair and a tight shirt, it showed off her bra-less goodies.
Molly stumbled past the stupid girl and ended up face to face with Peter. "Hello" , she said with a half grin.
"Hi", Peter said, "Would you like a caramel mucha mucha?"
"Sure!", Molly told him, all excited about getting a free drink. They got tall steaming treats in tall ceramic mugs and retreated to a darker corner of the dark establishment. They just kinda smiled shyly at each other at first and watched the straight rocker's antics. Peter was kinda re-leaved about not having to deal with they're harassment by leaving when he was going to leave. The cute blond had grabbed the midget's cigarettes flirtingly and was running slowly away, he wrestled her down and spank her round firm ass as she gigled and turned red. "Skank!", spit Molly. When Molly's attention was drawn by something, like the straight rockers pushing a asian kid in thick glasses around it gave Peter a chance to stare openly at her tits a bit, such fine looking nipples. The Asian kid got up and went back to his table, not ordering the coffee he had been planning on. The manager came out and gave the straight rockers a warning to chill down. The manager was a big blocky balding white man and he seemed to really like the rockers. So Peter didn't like the owner, a jockular piece of prick.
"Hey wanna go walk around outside?", Peter asked.
"Sure, let me finish the last bit of this", she lifted up her mug and drank heavily. They got up and headed outside, surprisingly without enduring a single comment from the straight rockers. Molly pulled out a cigarette and bummed a lighter off of Peter.
"Man those straight rockers suck!", Molly told him.
"Yeah, and they are cowards, they never fight one on one, yet they posture about like they are so fuckin bad", Peter said.
for glee
The End