Yup, it’s my coolest guy ever entry. I thought I would add to it again, to see if I could get it started up once more.
The original paragraph
It was a cold, rainy night as per usual. Rich was walking, not going anywhere in particular. He needed to get out of the house. He needed time to think. As always when he was in a pensive mood, he was listening to The Beatles. Suddenly, the battery on his personal stereo died. Shit. Why did everything have to go so wrong at the same time?
by Lonesome Pioneer
As Rich fumbled half-heartedly among the cracker crumbs and loose change at the bottom of his backpack in the forlorn hope that he might have been forethoughtful enough at some point in his life to store extra AA batteries there, the rain, as if to underscore his last thought, suddenly intensified. It was definitely now pouring. Rich swore out loud. Shoving his Discman into his backpack to give it some protection from the deluge, he stood there, the water forming rivulets in his clothes and on his skin, the huge drops pounding mercilessly on his freshly shaven head, wondering if he should allow himself to be soaked to the skin, seek a vagrant’s shelter for the night, or go home in this state and face the music. Music, he thought as a voice echoed in his head, a throaty smoker’s voice raised in a shrill parody of the husky tones that had once enthralled him so completely.
by WorthPossessing
It was hopeless, he decided, to head home now. Instead, he headed towards a small grove of evergreen trees across the street. Huddled against the trunk of the largest and most sheltering tree, he tried to remember how exactly his life had been reduced to such a pitiful state. He recalled the high-paying job with the pharmaceutical company and he remembered clearly the folded yellow memo that had shown up mysteriously on his desk one day, but after that, things began to get a bit muddled.
by The Moirai (me)
After his first time snorting the stuff, he was hooked. His supplier, someone in shipping, seemed to know exactly what was wrong with his life, and could predict what he’d need on any particular day. At first, he would only do the Ritalin-it helped him to get his work done, made him feel powerful and productive after a long night of fighting with his wife. It was strange, though, how his relationship with his supplier had developed…always the yellow memos on his desk, with Rich leaving post-it notes in bathroom stalls, money in stacks of reports: his supplier seemed to get off on making Rich do a lot of work to get what he needed. The supplier claimed that he needed anonymity. Rich suspected that this guy, a low ranking guy in terms of the company, just liked to see a high-level company employee do silly things.
My latest addition
In shipping, Kate heard about the news and felt a mixture of emotions. Sadness because she had lost one of her most profitable customers. And joy that another of those bastards had gone. Management guessed that she hated them. They just did not know how much. Would he have realised that she had set him up at the end? Probably not. Plus, she knew his address. And phone number. She could phone up, using the codename she had given him. Offer to meet him to give him more. How much more would be up to him. He would not refuse. She had a control over him that he could not even begin to understand. She sang merrily as she prepared another memo for her next victim. Another male. Always male. She had her reasons.
If you are going to continue this, let me know, so I can read your bit.
Will
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