Post by Reuben Chauncey on Nov 23, 2007 15:59:05 GMT -5
He hated the feeling... He hated the feeling of loneliness, unlovedness, uneeded; but the feelings preyed on him and had sank their long, sharp tallons into his back. In his hand was his same red handkerchief, one tip wrapped around his fist and the rest hung below as he walked. The shade of the trees darkened his life even more, except for the occasional parts in the canopy making a strobe light with the sun's rays.
Recalling all of his previous relationships, Reuben thought of all the women he dated. They only dated him because he was rich and thought he was raking in money. And all of his fans probably didn't know his middle name much less anything about him. No one wanted anything to do with a burnt out music artist that only sells one or two albums after each release, most the time bought by himself. He was in more trouble he could handle...
Dear Mr. Chauncey,
We would like to remind you, once again, of your debt of 200 Galleons, 16 Sickles, and 3 Knuts. You have refused to pay the debt and put it off and now you have two weeks left. If you refuse to make the payment by the deadline, expect eviction and removal of all personal objects to pay debt. Also, we would like to congratulate you on your new album. Hope it sells... A copy.
Cordially,
Magically Made Home Co.
He repeated the words of the letter over and over in his head, he had them memorized down to the last punctuation point. Then a quote he heard ages ago came to mind and he began repeating the words, but with a beat, "Yeah, you're out of the frying pan and into the fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Out of the frying pan!" That could be a song... If he took time to write it down, but for now, his mind was distracted quickly back to his current problem.
Recalling all of his previous relationships, Reuben thought of all the women he dated. They only dated him because he was rich and thought he was raking in money. And all of his fans probably didn't know his middle name much less anything about him. No one wanted anything to do with a burnt out music artist that only sells one or two albums after each release, most the time bought by himself. He was in more trouble he could handle...
Dear Mr. Chauncey,
We would like to remind you, once again, of your debt of 200 Galleons, 16 Sickles, and 3 Knuts. You have refused to pay the debt and put it off and now you have two weeks left. If you refuse to make the payment by the deadline, expect eviction and removal of all personal objects to pay debt. Also, we would like to congratulate you on your new album. Hope it sells... A copy.
Cordially,
Magically Made Home Co.
He repeated the words of the letter over and over in his head, he had them memorized down to the last punctuation point. Then a quote he heard ages ago came to mind and he began repeating the words, but with a beat, "Yeah, you're out of the frying pan and into the fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Out of the frying pan!" That could be a song... If he took time to write it down, but for now, his mind was distracted quickly back to his current problem.
