*EDIT: Forgot to mention this before, but this was for a really specific contest, which is why it's abnormally short.
Necessity is the mother of invention. Her other children include crime, marriage, and bankruptcy. I’ve become quite acquainted with crime in the recent past , and if necessity is one parent, Idiocy must be another.
I am an idiot, full blown. There is no better word to describe me, save criminal. Nevertheless, I must be here, right now, handing off some disks I nicked from a WAL MART to some street rat with a beer belly. It is a necessity. Russ will murder me if I stop.
The greasy man releases a wheezy chuckle and comments on my nice looking sneakers. I nod and do my best not to grimace from his stench, and make an excuse to leave.
I shuffle my clean shoes along the oily asphalt and make my way home.
Mum answers when I knock. She doesn’t like leaving the door open, not on our street. I understand completely; last night I watched a knife fight down the street out of my bedroom window. Mum’s scared I’ll end up like those guys, in prison. Or 6 feet under.
I stuff the soggy dollars into a dresser drawer and glance out the window. A man with a hood leans against a tree, clutching something in his hand like it’s the Holy Grail.
I make my way downstairs when Mum calls for supper. As I reach the bottom, a grimy hand grips my shoulder and turns me around. Russ.
“My money, son. You know booze is my personal necessity.”
Gender:
Points: 700
Reviews: 38