Ride No More


Tags: Slow, .

Desc: : A crumbled spot in the trail put him here. The blazing summer sun keeps him company.

The sky's blue-gray - opaque and oppressive. The clouds can't even seem to stand up to it, because they're ghostly - unreal - their dark bottoms devoured by that steely background.

I've got a nice view of it, not that I want it. The narrow rock shelf I'm lying on doesn't give me much else to look at, other than the crumbled remains of the significantly narrower bike trail above.

I suppose I'm better off than my bike. It's somewhere down there. I might be able to see it, if I could move. Things are broken, that's for sure. I can't even pinpoint what, because the one time I was stupid enough to try to shift position, the mind-numbing agony made me wish I'd followed my bike.

One last ride. That's what I told her. Guess I didn't know how right I was. No mountain trails to ride where we're going. Wonder how my auction's doing? Doubt the as is disclaimer covers what's left of it down there. So much for the listing fee and my perfect feedback rating.

Sweat's dripping into my eyes, and I can't do anything about it. Thank heavens I remembered to put on deodorant. The air's so stagnant and thick that I'd probably be stuck in a cloud of my own stink otherwise.

Then again, maybe that's blood and not sweat. Feels a little thick for sweat. Guess it doesn't really matter. It all burns.

Speaking of burning - I know it's summer, but this heat is fucking ridiculous. Maybe I should demand to see someone about it when I get to the pearly gates. It's bad enough that I'm laying here dying, but do I have to simmer in my own juices while I'm at it?

Or maybe I'm going to the other place, and this is a preview of coming attractions. Thrills, chills, and spills. Red-hot summer action. I did covet my neighbor's wife - well, girlfriend. I coveted her a lot. Must have done a pretty good job of coveting her, because she moved in with me.

She's going to be so pissed when I'm not home by two. I'd sleep on the couch or even in the doghouse right now with a smile on my face. Beats taking a dirt nap on this rock.

Great. Now the sun's directly overhead, shining in my eyes. Wait a minute. It was only about eight when I last looked at my watch. It's a Timex. I wonder if it's still ticking? You don't get much more of a licking than this.

Except last night. Damn, Karen, where did you learn to do that? It was like Gene Simmons down there.

Man, that's creepy.

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Story tagged with:
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