take two of a shitty post

The bench had a tall back, so the boy hadn't noticed him when he had sat down. He was too busy looking around with suspicion.

The old bugger was sleeping on the back side. He was dressed in clothes more ragged then those. He had a long beard, but very bushy, and with longish grey black hair.

It was not the same man. Of that much he was sure.

‘Who the hell are ya?’

It was the old bugger. He slurred his speech, and was, or had been so, and was still feeling some of the effects.

The boy didn't say anything back. Always wary, he made ready to run.

‘Ach! Who the hell cares anyways...’ The old bugger swatted his hand at the air.

‘Hey boy, come ere and have a seat. I dint mean to scare ya. Ya frightened me, staring down at a sleepin man and all. You ought not to do that. You could give a man a seizure by waking him in this state.’

The boy decided not to run. He would wait for the train to whatever the consequence.

The old bugger laughed and told the boy about his night’s carousing; the purchase of a fine bottle of cheap whiskey, and the river where he went to share his treasure with a number of his friends. It was an ugly tale, but not so sad.

After his story the old bugger looked down at the ground. He had been getting more excited as he spoke, but now the color drained from his face and he slumped back into his stupor. The boy had listened not sure if he should believe the ramblings. Now he watched the old bugger put his head in into his hands, then rub his eyes slowly with dirty palms. He could hear him sobbing as he slipped away.

The boy was shaken, and he looked down the track, hoping that it would come soon. And his wish was granted. He heard the sound of the whistle from not too far off, and then soon the train was visible. He looked back, the old bugger still sat with his head in his hands. When the train slowed down to a stop the boy quickly slipped on unnoticed.

- posted by Sigurd8/22/2004 08:29:00 PM