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Franz' Life


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The pain started as a dull throb on a distant horizon.

The sound of nails on a black board.

More pain, stronger now.


The damn noise, so insistant, threatening to take away the slience and the dark.

a sliver of light....


more light now...

more pain...

The noise had resolved into a high pitched whine, making the pain worse, if it could be...

more light...


a dark place, voices, shrieking laughter, music...

The pain just couldnt get any worse, so to hell with it...

It was dark in the uptown flat, a gap in the curtains shed a beam of sunlight onto the bed and over his face.

He opened his eys fully at last.

He watched the dust motes flicker back and forth like lazy flies on a hot day.

A smell of mouldering washing and cigerettes penetrated his nose.


A carelessly flung arm silenced the alarm clock at last, taking away at least one of the perpetrators of pain in his head.

More memories came back.

He could remember the pub, yes definatly remember that...

then where?

ahhh yes...

The club... the club and yes Bruce...and...ahh yes...Leaf...

it was always the same with leaf. always one more drink...

Well, that explins the headache and the furred tounge.

Where did he get his cash from anyway? not the poxy bar job, that was for sure.

He remembered the roll of 20's Leaf always seemed to have on him.

Still, he wasnt stingy with his cash, and unless you got into a conversation about religion or politics, you could have a good night.

It was just the morning afters Franz had problems with.


where was the damn clock?



The battery cover had come loose and the small disk of a battery was nowhere to be seen.

"Sod it, ill look for it later" he thought.

"why the hell did i set the alarm in the first place?"

"it'll come back to me"

He dragged his listless form to a sitting position, muscles creaking, noticing that he'd been sweating profusly again.

As it dried, it covered his body with a cool slimey feeling.


Under the bed on which he lay were a crumpled and desidedly grotty pair of combats, the grey and black patterns one of the few things he didnt have to squint to look at.


"Pills, need an asprin"

Shakily he got to his feet and padded across a worn carpet towards the bathroom.


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howd i get the idea?

Lol, its my life! (or an approximation, basically going to try and take the all groovy bits from over the years and combine it into a week and add a few embellishments of my own. Truth is stranger than fiction



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