Breaker
12-18-08, 07:49 PM
WARNING! Mature language and subject matter. Feel free to comment on this.
Josh sat straight as a ramrod in the centre of his single bed at the Peaceful Promenade. A cigarette rested between his lips, trailing smoke towards the ceiling in a slipshod spiral. The sheets splashed around him in a similar fashion, rumpled in the limelight of a rough night. He drew heavily on the cig, and the ember blazed like a tiny lantern, casting light to the corners of the small square room.
The soldier had not slept in days. Past even the limits of his extraordinary physique, he had taken a cheap room in favour of the rocky woodland floor. Now, with voices wafting through the thin doorway, he wished he had dropped a heavier dime in the innkeeper's purse.
"You've got to let me draw you," a male voice piped, just barely post adolescent.
"Draw me anytime," A female companion simpered, "Why not draw me right now?"
"You're wearing clothes!" The boy responded with artistic indignity, "I only draw women in their natural form!"
A chorus of giggles supported by some lower-pitched chucklying skimmed over and around the excuse for a door. Josh ashed the cigarette on his forearm than tossed it on the floor to join a veritable army of similarly snubbed brethren. The smell of tobacco hung heavily about the room, imbued in his hair, even the scraggly stubble of his beard. That heady scent should have long since knocked him out, caked as his lungs were in the tasteless soot. Sleep tried to snatch him once in awhile, but those damned kids in the hall kept tearing him from precious slumber.
"I don't think I'd ever take my clothes off for an artist, at least not one as amateur as you." This girl had an alto tone, a sultry voice that assaulted the italicized words.
More giggling. More chuckling. Josh snatched a handful of tobacco and a paper, rolled the rette one handed and snapped a match to his lips. Puffed like a steam engine and glared holes through the wall.
"I"ve studied the feminine form," the artist insisted, "Painted countless models, and I--"
"So I'd just be another of your hundreds? Just another page in your sketchbook?" She shouted scandalously. Josh felt each word like a seperate migraine eating away at his overtired brain.
"Never!" The desperate lad defended himself, but his plaintive voice was drowned out by still more laughter. Josh could take no more.
In a single bound he left the bed and crossed to the door, naked and uncaring. He glanced through the peephole, counted six bodies. Stared for a moment to match voices to faces, studied the body language, then tore the pathetic portal open.
In the shocked silence his naked body commanded, he stepped over the threshold. Hazel eyes like chips of flint flickered over each of the individuals.
"I'm trying to sleep," he growled, "So let's speed things up." One rock solid finger extended and pointed at the simpering soprano brunette. "She wants to fuck you, he indicated the silent redheaded male. "But he," he indicated the alto blonde, "Wants to fuck her."
"You two," he spoke directly to the couple lounging next to each other, "Are already fucking from what I can tell, so good job. Go do so. Quietly, far away. You," He spoke directly to the last, lonely lady, "No one wants to fuck you, so I suggest you find some new friends." With a heavy, violent sigh, he ran a hand through his hair.
"Now. FUCK. OFF."
The soldier stepped back into his room and tried to slam the door, but the last lonely lady barred its path.
"What if I want to fuck you?" The girl asked seductively. She was really quite attractive; he had no idea why none of her friends wanted her, but body language never lied. His retort was short and sweet.
"No fucking way. I'm too tired for that."
He placed one hand between her breasts and pushed her gently so that she flew into the far wall. Closed the door, locked the door, and returned to his bed.
Josh rolled another cigarette and lit it one handed. Sleep still would not come, but at least he could smoke in peace.
Josh sat straight as a ramrod in the centre of his single bed at the Peaceful Promenade. A cigarette rested between his lips, trailing smoke towards the ceiling in a slipshod spiral. The sheets splashed around him in a similar fashion, rumpled in the limelight of a rough night. He drew heavily on the cig, and the ember blazed like a tiny lantern, casting light to the corners of the small square room.
The soldier had not slept in days. Past even the limits of his extraordinary physique, he had taken a cheap room in favour of the rocky woodland floor. Now, with voices wafting through the thin doorway, he wished he had dropped a heavier dime in the innkeeper's purse.
"You've got to let me draw you," a male voice piped, just barely post adolescent.
"Draw me anytime," A female companion simpered, "Why not draw me right now?"
"You're wearing clothes!" The boy responded with artistic indignity, "I only draw women in their natural form!"
A chorus of giggles supported by some lower-pitched chucklying skimmed over and around the excuse for a door. Josh ashed the cigarette on his forearm than tossed it on the floor to join a veritable army of similarly snubbed brethren. The smell of tobacco hung heavily about the room, imbued in his hair, even the scraggly stubble of his beard. That heady scent should have long since knocked him out, caked as his lungs were in the tasteless soot. Sleep tried to snatch him once in awhile, but those damned kids in the hall kept tearing him from precious slumber.
"I don't think I'd ever take my clothes off for an artist, at least not one as amateur as you." This girl had an alto tone, a sultry voice that assaulted the italicized words.
More giggling. More chuckling. Josh snatched a handful of tobacco and a paper, rolled the rette one handed and snapped a match to his lips. Puffed like a steam engine and glared holes through the wall.
"I"ve studied the feminine form," the artist insisted, "Painted countless models, and I--"
"So I'd just be another of your hundreds? Just another page in your sketchbook?" She shouted scandalously. Josh felt each word like a seperate migraine eating away at his overtired brain.
"Never!" The desperate lad defended himself, but his plaintive voice was drowned out by still more laughter. Josh could take no more.
In a single bound he left the bed and crossed to the door, naked and uncaring. He glanced through the peephole, counted six bodies. Stared for a moment to match voices to faces, studied the body language, then tore the pathetic portal open.
In the shocked silence his naked body commanded, he stepped over the threshold. Hazel eyes like chips of flint flickered over each of the individuals.
"I'm trying to sleep," he growled, "So let's speed things up." One rock solid finger extended and pointed at the simpering soprano brunette. "She wants to fuck you, he indicated the silent redheaded male. "But he," he indicated the alto blonde, "Wants to fuck her."
"You two," he spoke directly to the couple lounging next to each other, "Are already fucking from what I can tell, so good job. Go do so. Quietly, far away. You," He spoke directly to the last, lonely lady, "No one wants to fuck you, so I suggest you find some new friends." With a heavy, violent sigh, he ran a hand through his hair.
"Now. FUCK. OFF."
The soldier stepped back into his room and tried to slam the door, but the last lonely lady barred its path.
"What if I want to fuck you?" The girl asked seductively. She was really quite attractive; he had no idea why none of her friends wanted her, but body language never lied. His retort was short and sweet.
"No fucking way. I'm too tired for that."
He placed one hand between her breasts and pushed her gently so that she flew into the far wall. Closed the door, locked the door, and returned to his bed.
Josh rolled another cigarette and lit it one handed. Sleep still would not come, but at least he could smoke in peace.