Good Times (BeeDuo)

Chapter 01- "These sheets stink like shit"

(Third person Omniscient)

"I'm sittin' here in the boring room, it's just another rainy Sunday afternoon"

A cassette tape played it's record, as washing machines ran their cycle. It smelt of laundry detergent and old, slightly molding wood. The scent of mildew was strong, and so were the doors that took more force then they were worth to open. This is where he put all his labor and earned his keeping.

He'd been employed there for three years, since he was 14. This town was overbearingly small, workers were nimble in numbers and severally scarce. They'd take anyone, no matter what law it broke. That's why there were so many abandoned buildings and homes around. Everyone left after the war.

A war that happened before he was born, a war that never made it to the history books but remained in the memory of it's towns past. He heard the national anthem many times, placing his right hand over his heart, afraid to breathe. It was weird, how this worn out town by the coast still stood by its rules and regulations so proudly, as if a tragedy never happened on these grounds.

Same old people, same old atmosphere. It's all he knew, this town and it's shores that kissed the ocean so generously. He wanted to ask the people here, "Why are you still here, and what happened to the people that left?" But that would just stir bad memories, because whenever he mentioned the war, all he'd receive was a grieving stare.

The only time he came close to finding anything out was when the mayors wife, Sally Soot, talked about her son- Fundy. He grew up knowing nothing but his fathers legacy, and drank poison meant for his fathers dismay by accidental occurrence. She said the mayor's command after that was, "No one gets in or out the walls." The bombs dropped the next day, blowing holes into the earth at a rapid pace. Two warriors had watched from above, gleeful smiles plastered on their face as they watched L'manburg fall.

That's what Sally said anyways.

He was lost in the never ending path of his thoughts, thinking back to his earliest memories. His dirtied and worn out shoes tapped to the song playing in the back ground of his mind, and he sang softly along. The customers he'd always receive and wait for were tourists from other parts of the country, just passing through to head to the city where gamblers and money consumers alike flourished- Las Nevadas. He wondered if it was actually paradise, or a place where adults got drunk and cheated. His shaggy and unkept hair swayed with his movements, eyes closed blissfully.

The sun that leaked through the open windows kissed his face warmly, his lips slightly parted as he paused his movements. Beautiful, anyone would say. He had a gracefulness he would deny full force, ready to back you up on why he was horrible.

The right side of his face was completely dominated by scars that would never heal, splattered out like white paint on a midnight sky. He'd never spill where they came from, but everyone knew about the joke that went too far. Everyone knew about the poor, helpless boy that was bullied into a box and blown up.

"And all that I can see is just a little lemon tree-"
He smashed the pause tap as the bell rung, realizing it would be a disturbance to whoever was entering. As the glass doors with metal lining and handles opened, he saw a peak of the sky that ran beyond the view of the windows.

An array of colors were set in place, oranges that faded to yellow then purple, with pink strewn into it like careful embroidery. Fluffy white clouds with an outline of red danced across the sky, and he payed no mind to the stranger who had just entered.