That’s what became of him…

There was always somethin’ that he couldn’t place his finger on…little fact or a trace of a thought that escaped his mind…kept him up at nights…wonderin’ just how things got so bent outta shape…he wanted to call up and ask her…wanted to…never got ’round to it…

Instead he’d just walk ’round all day bangin’ his head against brick walls…talkin’ to himself internally ’bout this last love affair gone awry…it was always goin’ awry…one before her and the one before that…a whole list of failed relationships…these women haunted him…

He’d think ’bout ’em in his sleep…had dreams…dreamt ’bout the red head, blondey, and big brunette…all of ’em had long hair…just piles and piles of it he’d run his fingers through…used to love the smell of it…would kiss ’em on the forehead just to catch a whiff…

But…all these women would leave ’em ‘ventually…said he was too much to handle…said his wild ways were gettin’ wilder as he grew older…takin’ off in the middle of the night to walk ’round town…Sheriff would find ’em out on highway 30 thumbin’ rides to go out West…then sometimes they’d find him out on 24 over by the Ohio line…just sittin’ there grinnin’ like an idiot…like some kid with blueberry pie all over his face…

So…he’d spend his final years alone…sittin’ in a recliner with his feet up at night dreamin’…just dreamin’…that’s what became of him…

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The writing is based on my surroundings and what I've been surrounded by. This language is coarse and politically incorrect; which I make no apologies for. These characters are not nice and to use any other dialogue would be disingenuine. That being said, I choose to roll the dice. dm seay

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