Keith - A small town mentality

I have no idea how this will be taken but I wrote it one night stoned and pictured how I didn't want to end up like in the future. Alone, miserable and addicted to toxins just to get through life.

Keith

 

The flat was small and dark with only a foot-pedal light in the corner, it made the room seem

dark and dingy. It was fairly clean apart from a few scraps of paper and empty beer cans lay about, nothing a quick tidy up wouldn't solve. It had a damp odour that seemed to linger like a wet dog, Keith didn't mind much as it had become a part of his own smell.

 

The flat itself had a hallway leading from the front door giving way to a first door on the right was a small bathroom, a bath with no shower, a yellow stained sink with a toothpaste smeared mirror above it and a toilet that hadn't properly been cleaned for a while. The second a small bedroom big enough for a double bed that creaked every time you moved, a wardrobe that barely stood up on its own and a desk that had only been used for storing clutter. Moving on from this the living area was a kitchen and a living with a work surface that was surprisingly clean with knives stacked up in a vase meant for flowers and a machine resembling a instant coffee maker, a cooker that needed a good spray and wipe with an old washer and a sink that was in need of a good plumber, right next to the sink was a little window that Keith would stare out of when washing up, his view was a church which had a small ageing congregation that would go Thursday, Sundays and the occasional Tuesday.

 

Across from all this faced the living area, it had a white foot-pedal light in the far right corner which gave out little light and could hardly be used for reading, not that Keith ever read much apart from The Sun which was mostly for the page 3 girls or football. Next to the light was a display unit featuring many VHS films that Keith had acquired from jumble sales and flea markets, he rarely went into a charity shop as he didn't like the way they got the first pick of things people had left in good will. Next to display unit was the large television that gave of a humming noise every so often, it stood on a black display unit that housed a sky box that Keith had lost the remote for one drunken night so the television usually aired the same program most nights. Next to the TV was a medium sized fridge freezer that seemed to separate the kitchen and the living room with an invisible line.

 

In the middle of the room was a double seat settee, it was only really big enough for Keith as he was quite a large man with his legs usually dangling off it whenever he laid down. The springs were one heavy jump away from breaking but Keith didn't mind, to him it was broken in. It was a light navy grey but had turned a brown colour from the cigarette smoke, with two stripy cushions placed for where Keith’s head was usually placed. Behind the Settee was a couple of boxes of Keith’s junk with a picture hung up of when Keith was a young boy not far from his teenage years displaying a big beaming smile holding a medal for the best youth footballer of the year award, Keith's proudest moment.

 

Keith himself was a large man with shoulders that seemed to over extend themselves, six foot two he believed himself to be but he could easily have been taller depending on his footwear. He didn't have a wide figure but he had started to fill out in his later years, his dark greying hair and usually overgrown stubble gave him an edgy look to him the sort you would prejudge before speaking to him. He was the sort of man who believed if a sock could still hold most of the foot in it then it was still usable, he rarely bought himself knew things, he believed the world was run on a false economy, one he would not facilitate in.

Keith would spend his days slouching about on the couch drinking and smoking, he would often visit The Goose pub participating in his fair share of drinking and arguing over pointless topics. Barely would he work much, scrimping and scraping on the sick then signing on when need be, he wasn't lazy he just didn't like to work for what he believed a pittance, Keith was a man in denial and worst he could not recognize it.

It had been a usual evening of a microwavable meal for one, four tinnies and a L-joint before heading to The Goose. Keith wondered if he could be bothered getting up for more 'supplies' " Nahhh he thought, why the f**k should I? I've got my can of brew, my tenth and my slowly going kebab. He looked please with himself. It had been a good night for Keith concerning his alcohol intake getting tipsy off only a small amount, the locals didn't mind helping out a 'friend'. He thought of how they bought him a pint only for them to pour out their trouble, the same problems that he had only he didn't speak of them. When his wealth had subsided with bronze remaining the landlord would keep tabs, a regular and a local in their eyes knowing full well it was an excuse to go back on pay day.

 

He thought deeply in anger of how they would buy him a pint only for him to stand at the bar listening to their s**t, he knew they weren't friends and that they were just another 'piss ed'. One moment they were best mates the next they'd be scrapping over Sandra, she was the local tart ‘buy her a few drinks and she was yours’. Aye Sandra was one who grew old fast, the type in school you thought was a beauty and she knew it, give her a fiver and a twenty pack of lambert and butler and she'd do almost anything, even back then she knew how to please. She had liked Keith back then, he had always treat her better than dirt, back then he was young and naive.

 

-Friends, who needs em said Keith in a mumble, Slipping off his slippers and kicking them to the door way. What the f**k is this on telly!? Thought Keith, never really taking an interest in boxing he liked this boxer, the way he fought was interesting to watch. He didn't know his name but he was a darken " Don’t see many paki boxers shouted Keith in a heckle of laughter, wonder how he does?, no way his parents would of let him box...or maybe they did he wondered. Well black or white it don't matter to me, if he’s British and he does well he's o'right wi me- wondering through his thoughts he realised his half eaten kebab. Hmm that’s good! Taking a bite and dropping mint sauce on the carpet- F**k! Shouted Keith, - I'm sick of this s**t!, every f*****g time. He lowered down and rubbed it in with his fingers

 

He sat back watching the critic talking about the boxing, drifting off he wondered if Jackie would be at the bakery’s tomorrow, maybe Julio. He hoped it would be Jackie, Julio was a short changing b*****d, next time he does that I’ll knock him out he thought aggressively " Little b*****d he mumbled, closing his eyes he drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Whatever, just a piece of writing I'd take my chances on. P.s needs another draft as many grammar mistakes.