A Fistful of Anger 4

I just like smoking cigarettes for some reason. I smoke it until it is dead. I like it that way. Bobby likes smoking too.

I saved the landlord's son in Iraq. That's why she gave me the room. She won't give me electricity cause it'll get her fired. She buys all my liquor and cigarettes though. Bobby likes to drink too.

"I used to be a straight A student."

"Really?" I ask her, trying to sound interested.

"Yes. Then what happened?"

"I came out as a lesbian."

"You came out as a Lesbian? How interesting."

"Then what?"

"I just left after listening to them talk about how disgusting I was."

"Why'd you tell them?"

"Well, my friends outed me."

I really didn't know how to respond to her answers to my questions. It really did not seem like she had good friends. I just kept on drinking the booze and I could see the entire ceiling spinning above me in the dark.

"Why'd you come to America?"

"I had nowhere else to go? My wife was sleeping with the general in Korea."

"How'd you know?"

"You kind of figure out this shit."

"I'm sorry for asking you to apologize for my dream."

"I really don't care."

"You do."

The ceiling above me kept on dancing and all I wanted to do was spin myself into oblivion. Sometimes, I wanted to blow my brains out. It was all senseless. War or not war. Every decision came down to killing these people or those people. It was all barbarity and mass killing in one sense or the other. It would never end.

"Why don't you just kill yourself?" Bobby asked.

"It would not change one thing."

"The rich will get richer and the poor will get poorer."

"Not only that, unhappy and maladjusted people like us will gradually disappear."

"Really?"

"Yes."