Charles (Orc) Merriman (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
paidinbeer) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
trans_92012-05-19 10:13 am
paidinbeer) wrote in trans_92012-05-19 10:13 am
Entry tags:
Alcohol, the alternative to feeling like myself
The world was busy, and so fast. Always moving faster then Orc could move, or think. It seemed like life was passing in the slow solid blinks of his beady little eyes.
Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.
Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.
But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.
And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.
The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.
Ever since Howard's death he didn't feel as compelled to be useful. To take care of himself. What was the point really? They were all going to die sooner or later. And it's not like he deserved that second chance Howard was always going on about.
Howard...how long had it been? Between the drinking and Stacy's own peculiar grasp of time he had lost track.
But it didn't matter. All that mattered was forgetting. Forgetting where he was, forgetting what he was. Forgetting about Howard, Betty, home.
And so he kept drinking. And he kept moving. To stay in one place for too long risked trouble. People finding him, feeling bad for him. They were just being nice. But he didn't deserve nice. Not after what he'd done.
The city was perfect for this because there was so much of it. He didn't move fast, and he got tired easily. But he had plucked the beertree clean and drug a cooler with him. One of Howard's last gifts. Maybe Howard had more beer in the warehouse...he would have to stop there and see.
Religion Row
Slowly his eyes followed the shadow to it's owner, a large church, the kind he had only seen in movies. There was a sudden wave of guilt that churned his stomach and he felt like throwing up again.
He hadn't been to church since the FAYZ started, and he had only prayed in the depths of absolute alcohol fueled depression. It had never been proper either but always a cry for a god he no longer thought would welcome him. A god who might not even exist.
The bottle slipped form his hand and shattered, precious mind numbing fluid spreading over his foot but he barely noticed as he was caught up in a guilt soaked memory of the first time his sunday school teacher had caught him smoking in the bathroom with some other delinquents. She had lectured him and made sure he understood how offensive it was to god and how horrible a boy he was to be so rude in the house of the lord.
For a moment he considered going in, saying a prayer for Howard's soul which he was sure was probably waiting for him in hell. But that was probably rude as well.