there are more silver cars than any other color car

There is a guy outside the window. She cannot threaten to call the manager, or the police.  Her threats are not credible. The police would take an hour to get there, and the manager would never make it out of his bed. She could drop water on them, as she has in the past, but they laugh at her cruelly, and try to get a good look at her through the torn screen. She can hear the cocky one, as he describes the women he hurts, with his texts, and his lack of reaction to their pain. Indifference is a favorite posturing for weak men who have mother issues, or women issues, or issues involving trying to make empathetic women go nuts. They like how they can become the victim again. It’s the closest they get to returning to comfort, making a sweet, kind girl go bat-shit and call too many times or complain loudly enough. She can hear the cocky one, for his voice drifts into her chambers and enters her ears like poisoned suckle, waking her from the sleeping tide keeping her posted to her state of morphine-like arousal and calm. The drug she is on creates sleeping problems, and the man outside feeds into the problems, creating stories she wakes up to that are worse than any harsh but fickle alarm sounding its warning. The alleyway is the perfect place for them to regal in drunken amusement, to astonish themselves with how funny they are, how easy it is to outwit people who care, how trapped people are by what they want to see. They can sit on the porch, or step a few feet into the street where no cars drive by, but up the hill, drunks with skin in red chunks walk by in grotesque states of neglect, and teenagers rush by in anxious patches, thrilled to have escaped death’s notice by being out so late and daring the powers that be. The guy with the cocky voice will never leave, he finds things that reinforce his livelihood in every step he takes. A women steals money from a patient at a clinic. He makes sure his friends singing surpasses the noise of traffic. Another lady smokes crack at Cal Anderson. A man tries to trespass onto his ex-girlfriends property, but nobody thinks he is being absurd and overly emotional. A girl age seven is locked out of her vehicle. Mama’s kitchen down and foaming at the mouth, copy that. Medics needed for a possible O.D. His age is 31. A fight is brewing on a corner. More units are needed. Under control at Two and bell. The seven year old child says she was with an uncle and that they need to enter from the back of the building. Pauses between emergencies suggest just enough time to suck in air between commotion. The cocky man doesn’t tell women about his childhood. His memories are driven out by all the long relationships he began in promise and ended in promise. He spent his childhood in a suspended state of swagger and vanity, and while his mother loved him, she spent most of his birthdays in jail, scurrying out to sleep with a guard so she could get a call in to her baby.  Actually, this is a lie he has created. His mother was a stay at home mom who sent his child to a psychiatrist, but he likes the idea that his mother was far away in a prison of no control of her own doing instead of the truth- that she didn’t like what she saw. He doesn’t want to think about how most of all, he never likes what he sees in other people, which is why he tries to drown people in their own pain before they get the chance to struggle enough to cause him a delay when he puts the pressure on, making them feel like women who don’t care about his needs when he doesn’t have needs. He just needs them busy chasing his needs so he can get a little tail. So sick of those big-eyed over-demonstrative women getting in his way, he always has to act like he cares about the sick lady next door or the boy on the news, he’s so tired of the way they only see what they want to see, he loves when it all comes crashing down and they still try to hold onto what they wanted, the good boy, the good boy, oh their denial fascinates him so, leaving him to entertain his friends outside the girls building regularly with tales of over-emotional women who lost their cool over him- over him!!

This entry was posted in cocky guy, tacky characters, unattended needs. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s