A Brief Exposé of a Dismal September Morning

No sunlight filtered in through the half-open window of my old, decrepit trailer. The numerous clouds that filled the sky obscured the sun’s glare. The chipped paint on the side panels looked even worse than usual and the overcast sky added to the dreary day. A chilly September wind started to pick up, and it whistled as it blew through the myriad of holes in my RV. I forced myself to get up and leave my cozy bed in order to close the partially open window. My trailer was a mess; dirty dishes filled the sink, clothes littered the ground, and my guitar and its many cords lay waste to an entire corner. I looked in the mirror and saw my sunken, tired eyes staring back at me. I hadn’t shaved in several days and was in desperate need of a hair cut. These two characteristics, though, would enable me to blend in perfectly with the rest of the denizens residing Finche Pointe. It was a run-down neighborhood. Its prime had past and crime and poverty had set in. There were boarded up windows, a risqué strip club (where you could get more than a dance if you knew who to talk to), and a tawdry bowling alley whose owners had long given up the hope of ever being able to turn even a meager profit. The enormously tall Finche Pointe apartment building punctuated the sky. The developers had tried to attract the rich and affluent in order to spur the economy. Obviously, though, that plan failed miserably. The obnoxious residents that inhabited the drab building were an eclectic lot. Every now and then you would run into a character who did not quite blend in with the rest of the monotonous crowd. They always tell you though, that the unexpected should always be expected. Just some food for thought. While I pondered why I had chosen to move to this miserable place, the piercing sound of an 18-wheeler resonated through the air. Apparently, one of the morons from Piggly Wiggly got their truck stuck on the round-a-bout. How they had managed to accomplish such an idiotic feat, I don’t know. That didn’t stop them from asking for help from the other imbeciles that were mindlessly milling around the neighborhood. Shortly after, black smoke again began to spew into the air and the truck was on its way. The simpletons wandered off, and the peace was restored to the neighborhood.