from myself.
Kent hated surrounding himself with the pill-popping denizens of the area. They were all so addicted to the meds they were plying themselves with yet they would say they weren't druggies. Kent would think to himself that they were no better than the pot smoking hippie kids that lived on the 5th floor or the junkie who always asked for a fiver to get his fix. Just because their dope had exotic names like Prozac, Percocet, Vicodin, or Viagra didn't make the addiction any different. It just made it trendy and acceptable.
He watched a couple of Botox blondes writhing on the dancefloor to some techno track that the DJ thought would get everyone up and moving. They were nothing but meat to him. They were trying to catch his eye but he was ignoring them. They were disgusting. Even if they were size twos with 46DDD breasts and full lips they were scum.
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2 comments:
I was really drawn in by the grittiness of this piece, the way the slanted view of our observer seems to wash the narrative with his innermost thoughts.
Excellent piece.
Thank you. I was going for a bit of Bret Easton Ellis' satirical yet gritty and dirty feel. Okay, I wasn't, but that's what it reminded me of after I re-read it.
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