I Like Dirt

This is pretty much about a eccentric kid living alone in the world. Kinda a melting pot of genres such as comedy,drama,romance,existential horror and some other stuff. Thx for reading

I Like Dirt

Chapter 1

The people flow down the dirt path like carp down a lake.What people.I don’t know.

I lied.The dirt path is covered in a jungle of vegetation blocking our way.You would think the city would get on this.Like god damn this is a busy street.I make my way over a hill in the path and see it stretch out for what seems like infinity.Comfortably Numb blast through my headphones as I tear the strap from my bag off.Hope nobody steals my bag.I hope somebody steals my bag. nOW i CAN FLY¡The wind through my hair.A opposing force.Or am I the opposing force.Or did god put us here to clash.Not unlike him.He acts all high and mighty.Peace,love,blah blah blah. He loves a good conflict.But what if he put the wind there to f**k with my head.Is it mental conflict or a physical.Or both.Or neither.

The air sure is crisp.It’s almost delicious.It taste like... I don’t know.Air.Yeah.Air.I wonder what fresh air is like.I just want one taste.It’s not that weird,I mean we all dream of the finer things in life.We desire them there is no covering that up. Some men want to be rich. Some want to f**k numerous beautiful women. Some men want to taste some fresh air. Our ancestors got to experience that what it’s like to wake up and taste,savor and enjoy some fresh air. Ever since damned baby boomers we haven’t been able to enjoy air. Though I guess it’s not all their fault. It starts with who discovered fire. F**k that guy. Some of us want to breathe. Like no consideration for for people.

The yellow brick road ends here.A run down ransacked,ugly,scorched,battle scarred,disheveled,crumby,murky,grisly,pigpen of a house sits at the end of the yellow brick road.My house.Where is my bag. S**t.I must of gotten caught up in the moment.It will be there tomorrow I guess but it’s still a pain. “Im home”.Im greeted by a creak in the floor and the pounding of the wind on the boards covering the kitchen window.Suddenly I hear a rapping at my basement door. Faded chatter resonates from behind the door.What if my house was haunted.That would be sweet.Might as well get that door open.I’ve never been in my basement.Doesn't scare me just never felt the need. Kick or pry. Kick.No real reason why i’ve just always wanted to kick open a door. Like in the movies.The door crash’s open leaving behind a deep bellowy echo. I look down at the step’s and am immediately confronted with confusion.A large frog sit’s on my step I guess rapping at my basement door.

Never really wanted a frog but I guess he can live in my goldfish bowl.I never had any fish I just found the bowl in a garbage heap.Thought it was cool.I mean think about it if you put it on your head you're practically a astronaut.I mean I need to practice for when I swim to the moon.But he can stay there for now.I wonder if I yelled as loud as I possibly can if someone could hear me.That’s dumb never mind.The frog ferociously croaks at me from the fish bowl.My stomach growls loudly almost as soon as he begins to berate me.“Yeah i’m hungry as well but you don’t have to  be a dick”.“I’ll get us some grub.”But first I need my medicine. I know doctors say eat something with your med’s but f**k that man.People also say that it’s “In YoUr BeSt InTeReSt” to not eat food from dumpsters.Yeah,yeah some of it’s bad but most of it is just going to waste.Sometimes it’s still hot.Like what’s wrong with it. So wasteful. People say “Oh kids in Africa could be eating that. No, but I could”.”Alright I will be back.Hold down the fort for me”. S**t I didn’t name him. Ehh it will come to me later.

    

Author's Note

This is my first piece of work. I'm cool with critique.Thx for taking the time to read.Peace and Love-Some Guy On The Internet