LEMONADE

        As he walked down the street he couldn't help but smile at the children selling lemonade to the construction workers. He remembered doing it himself when he was a kid. The men would come to work on the road in front of his house every morning and he would sit outside with a table and a pitcher of lemonade. The workers seemed happy to pay twenty-five cents for a cup of lemonade.

       Today however the workers seemed not to want the lemonade. They almost stared him down as he approached the stand. He asked the kid for a cup of lemonade and he piped up "fitty cents please".a whole generation and the price of lemonade only increses by twenty-five cents, what a world we live in. He gave the kid a pair of quarters and went on his way. He didn't blame the construction workers watching him like that. Anyone dressed like he was was bound to be a rapist or child malester in todays high society standards.

       The lemonade brought back such wonderful childhood memories. But as he remembered his past he couldnt help but compare it to his present. The innocence of childhood dissapeared when he was twelve and his older brother introduced him to pot. That was the first step in a bad direction. Step two had been made a year later when he was started smoking cigerettes, he regretted that with all his sole, but he quit 2 years later when he started couphing up a small lump of tar every morning. He remembered step three in the wrong direction with too much clarity for someone who had been high off his lid at the time.

       Dropping out of school had to be one of the stupidist things he had ever done. And only in grade ten... He remebered the early days of enjoying the home life, sitting in front of the t.v. eating chips and doing generally whatever he wanted. then it got boring. The loneliness kicked in. He never saw his friends or really anyone. But the thing that really got to him was that noone seemed to want to see him. The people he thought were his friends called his house asking for his brother and not even stopping to chat. He started getting even more lonely.

       The loneliness lead to depression and he began to think of terrible things. His dreams became worse and worse and then dissapeared entirely. He remembered how the drugs got worse and worse and how the drinking became more and more steady. He remembered trying to break back into the light and how time and time again he failed to do so.

        Then came love, a young lady whos name was now lost to him. She showed him life and how to live again. of course all those lessons were lost in the void with her name. But he still remembered the good times. He was a sinner plain and simple. Coveting so badly that what he wanted so bad now were the things he had thrown away so long ago. Once he had ordered the death of a man with the snap of his fingers and that was the only memory he wanted rid of.

        But still she haunted him, her beauty wafting in and out of coherency. Her name fading in and out of memory. Oh, how he lusted for her, how he wanted to smell her again. But now im getting side tracked.

       His lemonade had warmed and he had wandered, lost as he was in his thoughts. and apparently I was also. He looked around him and found he was standing in front of a bank. He was holding something in his left hand also. He looked down and it was a small bag. He opened it to look inside and found a handgun as well as a ski mask.'what the hell?' he thought as he wondered how he had come to possess these things.

       When he woke up he was in the hospital with a pair of handcufs holding him to the bed.'What the hell?'.

I think im over the 3000 character ark so ill ust leave it here until next week. enjoy and please leave feedback