Wednesday, November 29, 2006


This is an exercise in bad writing. I think it took me a little time to get into it. I actually had more writers block with this than I usually do because I found it harder to think of ridiculous metaphores than anything else. But it was fun. I hope you think it stinks!

The holidays were no fun for someone with holes in his pockets.

Walter shuffled down the sidewalk in a lurching kind of motion, his hands in his pockets fingering the hole he had just found all the while looking like a whipped dog that had been drowned too many times.

He had started the day with a fifty in that pocket and had planned to use it on small holiday celebration he had planned just for himself. He had no family, no place to spend Christmas Eve so he figured a room and a prostitute would do just fine. But now his money was gone and he thought finding a whore who would give him a freebie about as likely as finding a needle in a stack of sewing.

He knew the street though and hoped someone would give him some credit. Who knows maybe even whores had the holiday spirit. He knew he looked like a reject from a 70's thrift store but he didn't care. He had never bothered to worry about his looks, the only women who bothered with him were paid to do it. Even on Christmas.

Spotting a woman who was as likely to be a real redhead as O.J. Simpson was as likely to be guilty he lurched to a stop. He thought her name was Fern, but he wasn't sure.

"Ar..Ar...Ar, you Fern?"

"What's it to ya?"

"I.. I.. was loo.. loo lookin' for..somethin'.." he said looking around.


Walter just kind of stood there with his head down. Pathetic like a puppy.

"Well, what are ya wastin' my time for?"

Walter shrugged.

"Go on to the Salvation Army will ya? I don't do handouts."

Walter lurched on looking for someone else to talk to. It wasn't fair, being burdened with a stutter. No one wanted to talk to a guy who spit his words like a woodpecker trying to bash it's brains in on a tree at the speed of light.

His walk was kind of like his talk, stuttering. But he kept trying. He was a lonely guy and he hoped to find a lonely gal who didn't have anything better to do than spend the night with him. Pitiful but sad.

He spotted another woman a little further down the street. Coincidentally she was standing in front of the Salvation Army looking a little like someone else's leftovers too. He walked up and stood in front of her but couldn’t find anything to say even though the stutter would have made it really hard anyway.

He just stood.

Apparently she didn’t have much to say either because she just stood quietly too. Finally Walter gathered up his courage and looked up and into eyes as blue as daisies in a field of wheat and asked her name.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Sammy.” She whispered quietly.

Walter thought for a second.

“Hi Sammy..d..d.. do you want to go with me?” He was surprised his stutter wasn’t as bad as is usually was, because it was usually bad.

Sammy closed her eyes and seemed to be thinking, though Walter thought maybe she could sleep on her feet. Who knew?

Finally she opened her eyes and looked at him.

Reaching out she grabbed his hand and they walked down the street like two people who were destined to meet like wolves who mate for life on their first date.