The Mezunian

Die Positivität ist das Opium des Volkes, aber der Spott ist das Opium der Verrückten


<No way>.

Autumn said it in a gasp as she peered inside the open window, having called out for someone & hearing no answer.

She took a deep gulp & then climbed inside. She wandered thru all o’ the few rooms with her breath held & found no one inside. & yet she knew the place couldn’t have been abandoned by the mess o’ too much junk to notarize it all strewn ’bout or left round without care — a mess which would probably disgust someone with high sensibilities, but which excited Autumn with golden possibilities.

She dropped her pack & put her papers & Bible inside, & then pulled out a long jacket & wrapped it round her with the hood up & then put a black ski mask o’er her face. She watched herself in the bathroom mirror & saw that all her hair was covered, as well as e’ery part o’ her face but her eyes.

{ Wish it wasn’t so scorching hot, tho }, she thought as she fought the urge to pull down her mask & start furiously scratching her itchy face. { O well: it’ll encourage me to hurry mo’ }.

Then she pulled out a black plastic garbage bag & began wandering the apartment, picking up items that seemed useful. She started with goods that weren’t worth any money value, but would save her from having to shop: a coffee pot & maker, coffee grinds, a can opener, pots & pans, cups, plates, & bowls, boxes o’ soap, packets o’ sponges, the whole utensil drawer, & whate’er canned & boxed food she could find in the cupboard, as well as some well-contained food she could find in the fridge & freezer.

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Posted in Boskeopolis Stories, Short Stories