The Driver

The bottle is my companion. Suzie? she follows me. Like vultures follow the cattle across the desert.

He is a broken man, Edger, slumped and bitter clutching a 750 in a pale-white fist. beside him, the impassive form of a cat curled a restful nap. He is curled him self, folded against the wall. Bent from end to end. A ragged, unshaven face is hidden behind bedraggled, dirty, wavy locks. If one were to approach, the figure would lash out with undetermined swipes. threaten to relive him of his precious liquid, and the slumped man would fight the devil him self. He is a naive, a braggart, a drifter. he is alone -at least he believes. Suzie, the feline companion that trails him, is a solid black Tabby. She was rescued from a cold, friendless future. In his leathered appreal she found safty and comfort. She is his traveler, for better of worse. Suzie lays inches away from her drunk Savior. In an hour she will awake, stretch, and position her self close to his heart -his chest- and purr with sleepy satisfaction should his breath be steady. Unbeknownest to the drunkard, Suzie has saced him seven time before. Once by viciously biting, clawing at his neck, she startled Edger to simi-consciousness from and opium induced sleep earning her a sprained paw and crooked tail in the process. Still she stubbornly stayed with him. He would tell you that Suzie traded two of her lives for his.

Tonight, Edger was in a foul mood. Even before he started drinking, he rolled into a local shop and flung open the doors. He floored a bar patron who voice his preference of dog to "useless, lazy, lady kittens" He left the premises quickly to buy a bottle of mid-shelf rum at a quaint liquor store with money earned as a working farm-hand. Edger loved his work. What ever it might be. Often he was paid the best to lift. seeding, and corralling was similar enough. He didn't even mind the Mexican laborers who shouted at him in a mix of Spanish and Spanglish (all of which he pretended to understand). He smiled and laughed when it seemed appropriate, or some times for no apparent reason. Working was when he smiled the most. He loved things that stole his time and concentration. Unfortunately, work was slow. Nothing to be harvested and no establishment were hiring in these times. So, with not buy his thoughts and Suzie to fill his down time, Edger turned to a patron this night.

Her name was Vidette. Silken black hair spun down, over her sweet round face. dark eyes, broad forehead and amber skin. Vidette, Ve, as she like to be called, was of Cazella stock. Born in another place, she served as a waitress at a local delicatessen while her brothers worked the same farm as Edger. She was a picture of Grace and discipline.


....So fore those not in the know, I've gained much time from my recent work place. not for them cutting hours but of my own accord. (they took full advantage of my willing absence.
Anyway, this has given me much time to write, write, write.
Like i've ment, to, every day i will.
This is a sample of the stuff i've been writing. Displayed, for the first time. Congratuations, world. Expect moar.
Based on what (how) people comment (if they do) will dictate my future postings.

-love, Marcus