Phillip and Red

Average intelligence is difficult to know with running buffoons thinking they are more in tight skinned pants. The sole lagger in basketball shorts is trying to keep up with them, the wind pushing behind them while pounding him hard in front. They do not understand his plight, they have always done it right while he was the one trying to find what was wrong by smoking 20 class A cigarettes out back. He was never lax. Kind of gauky with teenaged features and a long nose, he managed to laugh at the wrong times and turn a certain red that made him more of a dork. He at least scrounged an existence on being the coolest of the uncool. Anonymity is easy to accept on a road trodden down. For him it is classical. It is like the rest. The money goes along with time but it keeps sanity from being lost to the blinding daylight of midnight frights.