Good Luck

Old Spencer, smelling of grippe, drugs, and death, he couldn’t bend over to pick up chalk, magazines, and failed acknowledgements of stupidity. He certainly reveled in my foolishness. “Modern science would still like to know what the secret ingredients were that the Egyptians used when they wrapped up dead people.” Funny, how people snub any disregard for my self-worth, I could always smell a phony. As if picking his nose allowed Spencer to hold his head high, my presence was only preceded by three other competent institutions. Success will overlook a booger. Failure hones selective pride. I felt it was important to know where park ducks went in winter. Mayhap they occupied a posh New York hotel. I left Elkton Hills for selfless reasons. Attitudes make me cold. There must be something grander than academia, like being a good parent or having a large vocabulary. It is easy to find reasons for disliking people. They could be old and repetitive. They could shake the wrong person’s hand. They could be sarcastic, exercising their passive aggressive skills after similar provocation. It seems living can be a circle of depression. Growing up is difficult if you’re not in the game. Hot shots always make the rules. They have an inside track on linear success, always elated, blubbering on about how good life is. They lounge around in their warm homes dressed in bathrobes, reading The Atlantic Monthly, drinking their hot chocolate. You can hear them at the edge of your senses, concerned about your destiny, hedging their own reputations and possible futures, shouting in barely comprehensible tones from behind closed doors, “Good Luck!” -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- If you are intrigued by this work read and review G. D. Master’s book, “Interpretations,” free in PDF format on SmashWords.com. Simply enter “gd master” or “interpretations” in the search bar of SmashWords to find it.