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Grapes Are Sour Anyway (Incomplete Version)

“Here, you can have it,” the man said, handing over his umbrella to the drenched child, “I don’t need it anyway.” As he handed the umbrella the child pushed it away. “Look kid, I don’t want you getting sick,” he explained, “So please take it.” The child asked him, “Aren’t you worried about your health?” The man grinned, “I’m old, my body is already breaking down, but you’re young. Your health is much more important.” The child was thinking about it. He didn’t even flinch with all the heavy rain pouring on him. “Allright mister,” he said with a smile, “Thank you very much.” He took the man’s umbrella and walked away. He disappeared in the rain. ‘Sigh,’ ten more minutes till the bus comes, he thought. It kept pouring. The man looked across the street. There were two men quivering in a cardboard box. At least they have something to cover themselves in, he thought. The man regretted giving up his umbrella. But, the child needed it more, he told himself. “Don’t you just hate the rain?” a voice asked. The man looked at his side and was surprised (but not really) to see somebody next to him. How odd, he thought. “It always ruins everyone’s day,” he said. “True,” agreed the man. “Don’t you feel sorry for those poor men over there,” the person next him said, pointing at the bums in the cardboard box. “Yep,” he said, toneless. “Do you really feel sorry for those men or are you pitying them ‘cause you have to?” he questioned the man. It got silence. Ugh, I wish he leave, the man thought. The rain got heavier. “Truthfully, I don’t give a damn about the poor,” the man replied. The person next to him began to laugh, “Doesn’t it feel good to tell the truth?! What’s the point of lying anyway?” The man began to smile, “So you don’t care what I said?” “Well, isn’t everyone entitled to their opinion?” he told the man. The rain stopped. “Name is Herbert…” he said turning to greet the person, but was shocked to see no one there. What the hell? He thought. He then heard the sound of rusty brakes. Bus is here, his mind told him, and did ten minutes really go by that fast? Herbert was confused. The bus stopped and the doors opened. He stepped in, scanned his pass, and sat in the last seat by the window. The bus departed. Who was that man? Kept racing through his mind. Does it even matter? He told himself, but it did matter.

He twisted the knob and entered his apartment. He shut the door and lied on the couch. ‘Sigh’ so what now? He thought. He pulled out the tv remote that was under him and turn it on. “Life’s ironic huh?” Sloppy the cat told Parker. Parker began to laugh, “Brother, you crazy.” I hate cartoons, grumbled Herbert and changed the channel. “I was trying to be postmodern and ironic,” Pauly explained to Rob. The audience laughed. “Are people giving up too easily, more at eleven,” Hank the anchorman said. “Isn’t this knife…” “May god save this sinful country.” “The president is overrated.” “Forty-two died…” “I hate you…” “I can’t enjoy my life, but Prozac has changed it all.” “Be free, be kind….” “I miss you.” He couldn’t stop channel surfing. He eyes stared blankly at the ever changing screen. “I think I know what you want,” the women said. Herbert’s eyes widen, like that of a child. The control fell off his hand. She slowly removed her cloths and began to rub her body with soap.

“Shower on and warm water please,” he said. He took off all his cloths and then saw himself in the mirror. Pathetic, he murmured and entered the shower. Why do we do it? Herbert asked himself, why can’t I move away from it? He gently massaged his scalp with shampoo. Some of it landed on his eye. Goddamn it, he thought.



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