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chips

Contributed by poeticjestix on Friday, 9th December 2011 @ 10:47:35 AM in AEST
Topic: StoryPoetry

The chip wrapper lies on the ground. Its steaming, mushy contents show that it has not been there long. It's night, a wet night. The paper is sodden underneath and drops of rain attempt to weigh the loose flapping petals of paper into submission.

Blue flashing light electrifies moments along the glazened tarmac. Revellers spill out of clubs and pubs in all directions. A pretty girl in a skirt barely extending beyond her knickers throws her feet all about, lumbering clumsily forward in a child like attempt at mastering high-heels. She beckons from one boy to another, clogging the ground like an excited horse. She asks if she is pretty,.. and if they've seen her boyfriend. Where is Dave? She loves him as much as she comprehends the notion, but he's a bit too much.

The police radio cut's through the rabble's ending hoorah. The ambulance rocks for a few moments. People get involved and are politely informed to leave. A screaming girl hobbles around.

She only sent him for chips.

Copyright © poeticjestix ... [ 2011-12-09 10:47:35]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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