Matthew Newton

What the Message was: (Part One) by Matthew l Newton

He sat alone by the dumpster, feeding himself strips of rotted meat that peeled off an old pizza box next to him on the ground. There were roaches scittering around it’s top, this green monster looming above him and every once in awhile one would fall on his head, causing him to frantically swipe his hair before returning to what counts for dinner around here. I couldn’t tell if he really knew what was falling on him, or if he just didn’t like to be touched, but as each roach hit he scurried to wipe it away, tossing about by the bin and laughing to himself as the bits of spoiled meat squished between his teeth.

“Fucking bash blamming!!” He screamed.
“Stupid fucking bish bash blaming!!” He kept his eyes fixed on his fingers yet his mind was clearly somewhere else.
“I’m one to call, yet one to call, yet a pigion knows me better.”

I found that the more he spoke the further away I seemed to crawl, slipping across the concrete with my back against the wall of the pizza shop. This was my spot, what the hell did this piss pocket crumbler want here? I could do the night without his blathering. Do without him seething and weezing and whining. Do without any of it.

“Do you mind?” I demanded. He did not seem to notice, so I repeated,
“Seriously, assbag, do you fucking mind one bit?”

This last bit got a look, though half assed and unconcerned I gathered, for what may have been attention might as well have been a ghost fart. His thoughts for me a whisper.

“I’m going.” He squeezed, leaning over the top of the pizza box he removed his teeth and spit the last of the rotted beef out before closing the lid.
“Leave that for me, I’ll most likely be back tomorrow.”

Matthew Newton
DOC #81868

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