Saturday, October 4, 2008

Joint Effort

"Me?' Gordan asked, very confused.

"Yes, you. 'Bout time you contributed more to the group than wise ass remarks and insights on how great America is. Trust me, it ain't that great Fish 'n chips." Casey mocked.

"Think of it this way, $500 to the winner, we split that five ways, that's $100 each. $100 can buy a lot of USA memoribilia." Parker says, trying to coax something from Gordon.

"Fuckin' fine mates, but if we win this, Casey can't bad mouth the states anymore." Gordon says, eyeballing Casey.

"That sound fair Casey?" Joe asks.

Casey sits silent, eyes fixed on the table.

"C'mon Casey. Don't think of it as doing it for him, do it for the group." Mali suggests.

Casey sits, still silent for a few minutes. "Fine, but we better win this, Brit boy." she says with a smirk.

"That's the spirit! Show us some brilliance Gordon. We really fuckin' need this cash." Joe says. Gordon grabs another napkin, and begins quickly scirbbling works to the paper. After a few minutes a silence, he brings his head from the paper.

"Got it mates!" he says triumphently.

"Well, let's hear it." Pakerker says.

"Ok, here goes." Gordon says, as he lifts the napkin to read.

Flowing white coats, a remnant hematoma in vein

A grub to the left, single mother on the right.

She reads People, he sleeps.

I drip, seep, spin.

A needle escapes my arm, already brused.

An addict?

Not even close.

Feet on the floor, the room spiraling with me.

Mr. Labcoat with an OJ, a pat on the back.

Flourescent lights seem piercing, daunting.

A plastic bottle of yellow removed from a contraption,

Urine or plasma I can't tell at this state.

Mine, though.

Worth twenty meaningless dollars.

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