The Life Score

Untitled Part

George opens his eyes to the sound of his cat meowing from the floor. It takes a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the light streaming though his bedroom window.

The meow gets loud as the black cat jump on the bed and start to walk up George body.

Damn Lincoln, George said sitting up and pushing the cat back on the floor. You will not starve to death. Let me wake up first.

Dangling his feet over the side of the bed George takes reaches for his glasses off the bed side table. Lincoln keeps doing figure eights around his owners legs. As the dreams fades out of George mind the sound of city life starts to increase on the bedroom.

George and Grace, his wife, rent this place to be close to the hospital in case something happen. He has not had the nerve to move out since her death. It is better to rot in this one bedroom hell hole then embrace life without her.

Standing up George walks to the window to peak outside at the stupid world. He grabs an open can of beer off his dresser and chases away his morning breath with a swallow.

Lincoln takes off towards the kitchen knowing food is coming soon. George shakes his pounding head at the stupid cat. He did not even want the stupid cat. Grace and he were going for walk to get some fresh air. The cat follows them home and Grace wants to keep him. Of course a happy wife is a happy home.

Placing the empty beer can on his music rack by the bedroom window. George pushes the smoke stained curtains to the side.

Across the street a couple of nurses are walking back to the hospital. They giggling and gossiping about their coworkers.

George places his fingers into a gun position.

Bang, bang, bang, George repeat as he close the curtain. He was not a violent person but seeing someone so happy makes him angry.

George picks up his pack of smokes and lighter off the music rack. He puts a cigarette between his lips and flick on his lighter. Taking a drag of the cigarette he exhales smoke all over the beer can ring paper resting in the music rack.

The music rack he made in his junior year of high school wood shop. It was his good luck charm. He never took it on the road with him. George did not want to break it and make it lose it luck. He wrote his first composition on this stand. It got him into Conservatory and from there he found his love for film scores.

George was tracing his fingers over the heart his wife craves into it. He still remembers the day she did it.

What time is it, baby?

George turns to the bed and knocks his cigarette ash into the beer can.

Bev was sitting up in the bed. Her red hair was all over and her breasts fell out of the tank top as she slept. She was his favorite call girl in the area. Even though George would never tell her that.

Just then Lincoln let out a meow from the kitchen.

Time to feed that dam black beast of Satan, George said dropping his finish smoke into the beer can.

You know you love that cat, Bev said adjusting her tank top and waving the smoke away from her. You know those things will kill you.

Good, George said throwing on a shirt. Then I will have to feed that dam cat. He can feast on my dead body till someone complains about the smell.

For a nice guy you can be a total dick sometimes, Bev said getting out the bed.

George knows she is right but did not want to admit it.