The Young Man and His Gang (James Gang. I like it!)

I truly do take my nighttime medicine and am sitting in complete darkness, exceptin the light coming from my monitor. I wish for it to illuminate me, give me strength to write a wee somethun. My meds have not kicked in yet so ya see this is the real me. When my meds kick in maybe it's not the real me OR MAYBE IT'A ALL ME!!! AH,HA,HA,HA,HA,HA. (Should I of put a dot at the end of the last sentence, OR, not? Also before my meds make me silly and woozy. How come when I hit the capital key the comas or the apostrophes are not bigger. JUST WONDERING!

I'm bout as limber (relaxed) as me body and mind gets. I had me a piece of apple pie with some vanilla ice cream and watched a movie that I don't know quite how to explain. This movie was watched on my old 30 year old television with an antenna. This movie titled Identity with John Cusack held my interest. Very few movies do that. A couple other well known people are in it BUT wouldn't you know I can't remember at this moment. I can't turn loose my stream of river, consciousness whatch-a-ma-call-it and remember too! I caught it on This channel.

I came up with a bit of an idea before I sit down here. I thought what if? What if I start a story and write some of every night in addition to my screaming out, consciousness, something or the other, meandering free spirit kind of thing. WELL SHITE I CERTAINLY HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE! (Except my mind, and it ain't mine anyhow! It belongeth to all the people who madeth me this-away!)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                                     James Gang

     The young boy lay in his bed thinking about many things. Being a teenager is hard enough, being poor in a house full of brothers and sisters and him being the oldest, plus sleeping in the basement. Can it get any worse? Then he reminds himself of his home, with the interstate almost in his backyard, one side is a road leading under the interstate, a heavily traveled city street in front. The only comforting somewhat normal evidence still left of what once was a real neighborhood is old Mrs. Worthington and her rundown house. Beyond that was an eight foot tall fence of the city cemetery. Seeing that eight foot fence makes him smile to himself as he thinks "why do they need such a fence for, are they afraid some bodies will escape?"

     He can make fun of the situation sometimes, however after watching a scary movie on television and retiring to his bed beyond the washer dryer, furnace and all noises that an over amplified childish imagination can come up with, and the biggest fact that he sleeps six foot underground, well . . . think upon that in the darkness of the night as you normal sleeping ones above ground do. NOW! only the width of one city lot, is, a lot of people eternally sleeping inside their own cement tomb of foreverness. Can you appreciate now, that he sleeps with two lava lamps on????? He has done it since the age of twelve, its been four years and well he does not let himself dwell on the dark side, of the dark side. The basement helps to block out the continual noise from the interstate. The non stop sounds of the large over the road diesel trucks roaring from the back yard no longer bother him, actually they soothed him in the beginning, blocking out the fear he allowed himself to think about of the city cemetery so close. He, being the eldest had to man up, even if he was only twelve at the time. Now it seems normal and comforting in a strange way. When he does his homework he comes down to his room because of the quiet it provides him. His grades has spiraled upwards, crediting it to being able to concentrate and get away from his brothers and sisters. They do make a lot of noise add, the television, his parents, the continual noise seeping through the cracks and the sinking old house. He and his father built a nice room in the middle of the basement. Although his father never mentioned it, he knew his father was ashamed, yet proud, that he accepted it and never complained.

``````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````````
I decided to start this story and have not thought of a name for the boy. It will come. I decided to do this on the spur of the moment. I hope I don't regret it. I think I'll sleep on it! Up above ground! Glen

PLEASE DON'T BE THINKING THIS STORY IS GOING TO CREEPY. I GUARANTEE YOU, JUST THE OPPOSITE!  OKEY-DOKEY! (The boy will be called James.)