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He could only assume that it was late enough by now. Dark clouds and lazy dogs, and really big slugs, were everywhere. He took four last sips of a weak and over-sweetened tea, and grabbed his coat.
"Jesus fucking Christ!" yelled the first passenger.
"Wait a minute, where exactly do you think you're going?" inquired the next.
"Hey, man, I didn sign up fer this kina shit, man. Hey, FUCK YOU, MAN!" exclaimed the third.
He took two steps out the door and then turned left. The sidewalk was the most pathetic and depressing shade of grey that he's ever seen. If only they could have had a bit of sun, but then again, he supposed that the sun would only have made him tired and relaxed, which was not what he was looking for at all.
At three o'clock, he took the book out of his pocket and began to read. It was damp, by now, and the rain was threatening to jump upon him at any moment. He could feel the cold black clouds shoving the rest of the sky down, closer to the earth, filling his lungs with a chill and an excess of thick stale air. He had to keep spitting, the taste of dead grass and wet cigarettes and early morning breath. He was just about to let loose another wad of chewy mucus when a crow, a great black beast of a bird, dropped an extremely large shit right on his head.
"Oh boy," he said, coolly, "I was so hoping to be shat upon this afternoon. Thank you, kind mister crow, I am ever so glad you could drop by. Come again soon, will you?"
That's when the bus drove into the wall of the liquor store. Thirteen people died in the crash.
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Muthtard?! Don't let'th be thilly. Lemon, now that'th different...
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