Matthew Newton

What the Message Was: (part ten) by Matthew l Newton

The room was black, lite shadows from the open door covering decades worth of filth that for most of us that visited the hotel did not even notice. I had made a home here recently, dispite the rent, which was steep; three loafs of bread a month. Might not sound like much to someone who has everything, like a bed, but to a guy who has to eat shit on his off days, the days he can’t get into a half decent trash can that is, three loafs of bread becomes an overdue morgage payment that you never quite seem to get out from underneath.

“You gonna sit there all night?”

I barely notice the man inching his way into the room before he reaches out a hand and shakes my shoulder.

“Shit!” I scream at him, pushing him off of me and scooting back against the wall.

“Hey! Dirt-bag.” He isn’t happy at my assult, yet he doesn’t run. Funny.
“You couldn’t just said no.”

“I shouldn’t have to. What the fuck do you want?”

He looks me over for a second before answering, there is definately a reason for him coming in here.
“I need that thing you found.” His blackend teeth ooze a blasting stench that trickles its way to my noze, shutting down any thought I may have had to help him.

“Like I said, fuck off.” I stand up and push him backwards, snickering as he falls over onto the bowl of waste I’d left last night.

“You can’t keep it! You’ll kill everyone you care about!” Frantically he calls after me, struggling to stand. I can here him as I head down the stairs, pounding his fist on the floor and wailing some babble about this and that.

“Good thing I don’t have anyone to care about.” I say under my breath.

Matthew Newton
DOC #81868

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