Prose

Work in Progress

written by: Twister

"What the fuck was that?" He squeaked, his voice coming out more high pitched than he had intended.
"What?". He looked up to see the startled expression he had created on his friends face. "Some fucker just
threw something at me, what the fuck" He wheeled his head round in the direction he thought the projectile had
come from. "Look those fucking chavs again, cheeky cunts, seriously". He paused for a second thinking how to react.
"Oh fuck them, I really can't be arsed, what the fuck are we doing living in this dump anyway?" he grumbled.
He looked at his friend as if to suggest that it wasn't a rhetorical question, then looked back to see if the chavs
were still there but they had gone. "You know it's got to the point now where I actually don't want to leave the house
on my own anymore, I'll be glad when we finish and I can get the fuck out of this shithole". He was pissed off
again now, he wished he'd done something while the chavs were still there. He could feel his hatred brewing within
but knew it wasn't directed solely at them. He hated himself too, he knew that, numerous times he had meditated on
his self loathing but didn't know where it came from. He had scoured his consciousness for possible reasons but
never found one to accept. "My subconscious must be a mess" he thought "fucking Freud."