Quote:
Originally Posted by Still Jack
This is bad start to the week.
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A sour wind took the fire from Jack's cigarette. Nobody's throat got a pass on freezing, not today. Jack's hands stayed in his pockets. Something whipped against his boot, something rattling like baby bones in a fat man's casket. Pool ball eyes rolled down to the paper, finding the headline beneath a sheet of filth: "BIRTHDAY PARTY GUITARIST PASSES AWAY".
Jack spat his smoke onto the asphalt. With a gnash of wheat colored teeth, he ground the words out, "This is a bad start to the week."