Passions in Prose |
![]() ![]() |
George Fritz |
![]() ![]() ![]() |
RSWells Member Elite
since 2001-06-17
Posts 2533![]() |
George Fritz' skin was backward. The nerves were on the outside and derma dwell where it offered him no protection. Long hair in the ducktail era, John Lennon glasses doomed by the slow crawl in it's leaving of the marlboro rolled up in the t-shirt sleeve sixties. He dare look you in the eyes with Love when "whaderulookinad?" preceeded sucker punches and bell bottom pants got you your arse kicked. Loose pants and shirts starched by a doubtless Loving mother didn't jibe with Ban Lon shirts, pointy toed (black) shoes, nylon socks, leather jackets and bad attitudes. The pre-school smokers preping for the daily diet of bell controlled failure encircled George one day as in his innocent, aim to please way, he entertained a bit too lifelike his mimicry of Tiny Tim's "Tiptoe Through The Tulips". Hurled harsh epithets, spittled mortars and launched lit cigarettes rained down on George who (like Daniel or John The Baptist) stood still and finished his falsetto'd aria. George turned to start school and barehanded peeled mucus from his clothes, expressionless. The pack, who would later don longer hair, more outrageous attire, tune to madder music and 180 degree pirouette on their stance to the current conflict went their way to lives deemed normal. I heard years later that Gearge killed himself. Hanged himself. I wish this weren't the ending. |
||
© Copyright 2001 Richard S. Wells jr. - All Rights Reserved |
![]() ![]() |
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
![]() ![]() ![]() |
All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. |