Good Morning, Beautiful

“What?!” I shout “Thats retarded!” I point to the big wooden door of the study “Get the hell out!”

Slowly he slinks away, i roll my eyes “Why mom smoked crack when she was pregnant with him is beyond me…” i say to myself , turning in my office chair to face the desk, more specifically the Dell N610C sitting on top of it. I sigh deeply “Well…” i look around the room for inspiration..

A painting. Nope. Wheat fields and broken windmills dont do it for me. Thats my mom’s thing. The painting. Not doing it for me.

A guitar sat against a window opposite me. Interesting. A guitar… and… there was a weight in the pocket of my brown Levi courderoys… and a bag of grass… i looked back to the guitar against the window, there was the highway about ten yards away from my house. The usual crawl of traffic went past, most station wagons and minivans. But then, something caught my eye, a blue and white Volkswagen Microbus. I had my three items.

A guitar, a baggie of weed, and a blue and white microbus.

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