Thursday, December 3, 2009

aint nothin but some shit i wrote

We lived in the house I grew up in. A three-bedroom track home that was nothing special. But now I remember my father built a wooden structure that surrounded a great marble table. There was also an overhang so on rainy days we would smoke and listen to the rain fall. My mother was something of an evil botanist. Always growing these menacing looking shrubs that would grow into thorn covered giants. All the way to the wooden rafters they did grow. The ferns were nice though; a bright shock of green hanging in clay plots, dripping moisture. Our backyard kept us sane. It was a peaceful enclave brought together by something that resembled a family. There was Charlie, George, our rottweiler and me. He was my parent’s dog for a few months but then I became his guardian. He follows me everywhere and I feel protected with him. I’ve seen him rip the throat out of two-dozen mutants and pad back to me to lick my face, saying your welcome.

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