Thursday

Stand Up (128 words)



The bright lights are making him sweat and have dilated his pupils into yawning chasms of black, eclipsing the calming pale blue of his eyes. The drugs haven't helped of course, he shivers as they course through his veins, scattering his thoughts. Ideas come charging into view only to stop just out of his reach.

He takes a step closer to the edge of the stage, peers down into the darkness trying to look for his devoted audience.

He swipes at the sweat on is forehead with the sleeve of his shirt, licks his lips and clears his throat.

Lifting the microphone he finally speaks "You people make me fucking sick."

His final act done, he drops the mic, turns his back and walks offstage to thunderous applause.


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