Post by Zachariah Thomas on Aug 30, 2010 23:33:11 GMT -6
After a long day of work, there was nothing Zachariah loved to do more then to crash out at home, get high, and fall asleep. Such was the case today. Sure, he loved zipping around on his skateboard pulling off majorly sick moves as he delivered a stupid pizza off to the masses. But after so many deliveries, he was exhausted. His brain felt it would explode with an over mass amount of addresses buzzing around his head. He needed to unwind, as fast as possible.
He opened the light blue, rusty door to his apartment. It squealed in protest as it opened. He stepped inside, slamming it behind him, then headed straight past his ratty brown couch, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. Above the sink was mirror. The reflection that looked back at him almost seemed pitiful. He was pale, thin, sweating...he looked less like a man and more like a pathetic little wimp dying for a fix.
Zach starred at himself for a moment, taking a deep breath, before whipping open the cabinet and shoving a couple Vicodin's down his throat and heading back to the living room.
He flopped down onto his couch reaching down one of its sides and pulling out a half drank, half-pint of Jack. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. Then, recapping the bottle, he slid it back into his hiding place.
Now if I only knew where my bong went...?
He opened the light blue, rusty door to his apartment. It squealed in protest as it opened. He stepped inside, slamming it behind him, then headed straight past his ratty brown couch, down the hallway, and into the bathroom. Above the sink was mirror. The reflection that looked back at him almost seemed pitiful. He was pale, thin, sweating...he looked less like a man and more like a pathetic little wimp dying for a fix.
Zach starred at himself for a moment, taking a deep breath, before whipping open the cabinet and shoving a couple Vicodin's down his throat and heading back to the living room.
He flopped down onto his couch reaching down one of its sides and pulling out a half drank, half-pint of Jack. He unscrewed the top and took a long swig. Then, recapping the bottle, he slid it back into his hiding place.
Now if I only knew where my bong went...?
