bite´s off

 

floran screamed in the middle of the night with a shriek and a raised feather. almost a minute as usual. the same scene, the same situation. breathed, sweated. the bedroom was breathtaking. he took his cigar and opened the window to let go a little summer night. the air felt a mixture of damp hay and wetness. it will take him a long time to sleep. he was thinking of the ever-repeating scene. on her eyes, a tense atmosphere, latex, chains, her laughter, and her teeth ... the idea was excited to him, even though he knew it was over. after a moment of rolling, he managed to fall asleep, although sleep was already shit. he took a shower in the morning and passed all the morning rituals of a man who had become definitively accustomed to solitude. never hurried. he went to work fundamentally last. he released the news on the channel two (it became a complete shit as usual). every morning he hoped something serious would happen, but it never happens. from the refrigerator he took yogurt (it was the last fuck, he would have to go to the shop among the stupids). monotonously, he chewed the yogurt with flakes and more or less waited until the bowl, left after his wife, left nothing. he had been totally hated by the breakfast he had been serving it for the past few years. but at least he assured him that he was doing something for his health in the way he lived. he used to go to work on foot. he hated people, and the underground metro did not do well in combination with the crowded tram. he even moved from one rabbit house to another because of it. the other one even had a balcony, where he sat in the evenings, listened to the silence, and he regularly drank red and remembered what had been before. he was not always like that. before he could even smile, he had a lot of friends, he liked to go out, and he believed in happiness and love ... he was definitely broken up by his divorce with melinda. she sent him to the water, of course, with his best friend, who always told him how uncomfortably they all fit together ... fuckning bastard ... he knows he could think of himself, too, and he often thought about it. it was nowhere. they tried to come back even a few times. linda (he was telling her) had come back to him for a while, but it was not ... they knew both of them ... floran brushed his teeth, switched off the crate and wore a white shirt with a clean, lined collar (after a couple of years it was possible) in front of the apartment he nodded to his neighbor, and he returned his greeting. he did not talk to anyone in the house. besides, nobody talked to anyone. on the way to work, he took the abop tunng and watched people over the black bead. that was the only way to survive that short stretch. in front of the entrance to a large glass building he took off his glasses, pulled out his headphones and took a deep breath. it's time. on 9, he called all the leading stuff and nicely arranged meeting rooms overlooking the city one by one, totally fucked them. he liked, as no one opposes him, and they all get off his sleeve because they are afraid of their warm spells. on the other hand, none of them even bothered. they played vabank. they knew nothing was imminent, and even if they knocked another big glass building next door. there were dozens of them. employees floran hated, and he knew he was acting like a bitch. but what? he was stolen. before lunch, when no one could more, he stopped it. the secretary gave him coffee (bitter and sweet enough). he had a taste of sliding her ass down, climbing her skirt, tearing her panties, hugging her tightly for her hair, telling her, she´s a fucking bitch, and spraying into her in a few seconds. instead, he thanked her and told her that he was taking off in the afternoon and that he would not even be on the cell phone. the plan was clear. the idea had paralyzed him for too long. basically he did not think of anything else. immediately after lunch (he gave a chicken broth and a medium-sized veal with a pile of vegetables) he bipped a business trip and went directly to the bar to the little lily. he sat down at the bar, where some of the people he noticed, and he ordered double vodka and a bottle of red for the start. the waiter recommended him cabernet sauvignon 2016 by intristic co. that vodka made him really good, and the sound of the sponge that he had taken from the bottle of his mood was even stronger. only then did he look around. the bar very cozy, a bit more expensive, but not very fancy. it was the most anonymous atmosphere. two thirty-to-forty old ladies seated in the corner (a man does not know much about it), drank a white spray and a coffee. it seemed they understand each other very well. at the bar to the left of the girl with a boy, they looked in love, and the boy was sitting in front of what looked like a floran. if he did not drink a small beer, he would think that he was looking at himself and that he was definitely fooled. the bartender did not speak much, which favored the floran. there was a fair amount of calm, but people started to sneak slowly with the coming dinner. floran ordered a tomato paste with a tortilla and another bottle. though to make a change, it remained the original brand. the wine was excellent. he still had plenty of time, so he took a quiet pace and enjoyed the time slowly. after eating, he orderd a coffee and peeked around. there was a guy named josh or something like that, but they did not move anywhere. classic hockey and football. when the outside darkened and the bar was cracked, the watches showed only half past eight. the bottle was empty again. it would be about half past eleven at the pace, but somehow he had to kill the time, so he ordered another one. in the third order, if i am not wrong. anyway, tomorrow a hangover will be a jerk. in the bar, where floran regularly spent fridays, people generally did not come from his work. just today, everyone had to show up, including the secretary. they probably went to celebrate how they were eating them today. they stood at the other end of the bar and did not notice him. and even if they do, fuck them! but a little bit of it made him nervous, it did. floran, for a moment dived, but as soon as he could see, a bartender came to him in a moment, and the bartende bring him a big shot and noone could even have to tell him from whom. from the other side of the bar his entire crew grinned at him. they were probably drinking already in work because they looked as fucking drunk as he was. he decides not to go with them as far as he can expect, but he just walks over to them and hears all the drunken bullshit, sneering, exhilaration, injustice, and similar shit. but surprisingly, they were all fine. the secretary was most surprised at how quick and immediate she was. actually, she did not know anything about her ... the mood was quite graduating, and the floran seemed to be normal after a long time. the round changed the round and the music grew louder. floran had cut the solo moonwalk before eleven o'clock, and woke up again with a shriek and stabbing feather in the middle of the night as usual. he had a mad drier and he did not understand where he was, because the window he usually opened there was not, and he did not even understand how it was still ... "come to me," sounds out of bed, "it is also a day today", she read his thoughts ...

 

P1070474

the day before

they were lying side by side and deeply breathing. in the reflection of the lamps on the bedside table, their sweaty bodies were shining. ellen thought of andy and sean at sammy again. they both waited for the other one to say something but neither of them wanted to. but something must have happened. it was clear... the silence was unbearable... and they both were drown. they even apologized one another that none of them had ever said anything because they knew how hard it was. sean cleared his throat and then once again, and asked ellen how she was at work (nothing more stupid was in his mind. such an idiot am i, he thought). ellen smiled slightly (as typical) and said they should end it. "do you have anyone?" asked sean. "and you don´t?" (i am such a cow, she thouhgt). "i have, but i still love you all the time," said sean, observing the ceiling. he spoke sincerely and the the time passed slowly. "i can not imagine to be without you," said ellen. "do you remember the pine dam? how did you run away from your parents and all weekend was raining and electricity was gone?" "and it did not matter to us," laughed  ellen. "and our neighbor, who hid the box with whitehaven sauvignon blanc 2015 with us and we drank it all and poured by water into them ...?". "next week it will be exactly 15 years since you invited me to the sea-calf seaside for a date." "i was terribly nervous because you were so beautiful ...". "you had a yellow shirt with a pineapple ..". "and your hair were in a ponytail and had white earrings and smoke one after another ...". "it's gone ...“

they were both silent and thinking of what it was like "before" ... ellen took sean´s hand and told him to stay till the morning. telephones flashed them on the night tables as a live, but they ignored them. to ruin that moment was not worth it. they both knew it. none of them could fall asleep, but they did not mind.

when sean awoke in the morning, ellen wasn´t there anymore. she left him a message on the refrigerator to keep her keys as usual. after the breakfast, sean cleaned up before leaving, and straightened up the pillows on the bed, as ellen liked (as she had required „before“) ...

outside, the sun was shinning, and in the pocket, sean had a handy full of messages from sammy. he wondered what he would say... charlotte day wilson - after all

 

msc

about schmidt

 

it´s half-past three and logan is silently sitting in the office. listening to the laugh in the next rabbit´s flat, otherwise, silence is everywhere. he does not look out of the window anymore. the building outside are gray and in the windows in the opposite building are the same tragedians like him. the street is not the main one, but it is quite busy. one car is passing, then nothing, than the second one, the third one, then someone starts to horn. logan watches the clock on the wall. time is moving fucking slowly. at three o´clock, the secretary snorts, smiles at him, and ask if he wants a coffee. logan tells her to go home. she's a nice lady who has loved him for years and knows everything about him. husband left her right after he discovered she is pregnant. logan said himself many times he'd take her for a glass or two after the work, but she knew he'd never do it.

logan glanced around the table. on the one side, the pile with what is waiting for him (bigger one) and on the other side what he has already done (smaller one). in the opposite building, there are slowly extinguished all the lights in the offices.

in the hallway logan meets a few colleagues. greetings each other and nothing else. the guard at the exit is a little bit different. this guy who snores him every day (maybe logan can steal the printer or what) says that tomorrow will start to warm up and that sparta has a title in her pocket.

logan walks home to a hairdresser (starts to gray, though only a little, but starts), buys himself at a corner shop two whole-wheat rolls, red pepper, goat cheese and a bottle of rioja by baron de ley (he wondered if take it and finally decide that yeah).

the right chaos begins in the underground, so far it has been a open-and-shut. the ants are getting up and performing as agog. the system does not have anywhere. in the square of the free republic, a lady with a dog who had watched him all the time sat close to him.

at home there was silence. logan took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. he liked the feeling when no one can, and he is the absolute master of the next twelve hours until he wakes up again and does not start to subordinate everything to the nonsense.

he did not go for jogging. he made two sandwiches and poured himself wine. it was full and delicious. the food was great as well. after the dinner, he was just a little tired and he was waiting in the ceiling. he thought of simone and thought he would text her, but it did not make any sense ... he drained his cock, took a shower and went to the bed ...

it´s a half past three and the secretary knocks on the door ... no, today not yet ... outside some car is beeping – a fucking jerk, thinks logan. he can not do anything, anyway… metronomy - reservoir

 

PA290329

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