(11.04.96)
Smelling of piss and talking to himself, along with anyone who was unfortunate enough to walk past him, Pat waddled towards the supermarket. He was a fat bastard and had no friends, so he talked to anything and anyone, trapping them until they had no other choice than to tell him to shut up fuck off.
As Pat walked back home from the supermarket, he heard a bang and felt something hit him around the heart area. His podgy fingers, however, could not find anything amiss, so he carried on walking home. As he continued, he heard more bangs and felt more projectiles hit him, but he ignored it and hurried home as fast as his fat legs could carry him.
When Pat got home, he removed his bulky jacket, and discovered a number of airgun pellets embedded within it.
Now Pat was scared.
He didn't want to die.
These are words i once wrote (mid to late 90's). Stories, poems, ramblings, thoughts & the such. Some are good (if i may say so) & some are not so good. Some are dark, some weird, others amorous. I stopped writing soon after i got a job (no longer had the time nor the inspiration). Anyways, Enjoy. **WARNING**(These are all written by me; any likeness, etc, to anyone dead or alive, is purely coincidental; & all my words are fiction!! - Some stories may offend... DO NOT read if easily offended!)
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