No title yet, any sugestions welcome

I know its kind of long, sorry, you don't have to critique the whole thing. Thanks

~writer564

Title?

Lawrence blinked the sleep out of his eyes. It was hard to stay awake in an

environment as the one he was in. A little light filtered in through the filthy

shades and the house was heated most of the time, even on already hot days like today.

He could not go to sleep now, he knew that the poem he was working on would be his next work of genius. He looked around his bedroom and knew that eventually he would have to clean, go through all this stuff.

There were piles and piles of trash. Discarded ideas that he didn’t think were worth anything, unpaid bill, clippings out of magazines and newspapers. Mixed with all of that was a small pile of dirty clothes. It would be larger except for the fact that he hardly ever changed.

Lawrence could sit at his computer for days, only coming up with two lines. He would jot down notes, write, erase, write, and then start all over again.

He knew that many people called him crazy, and he didn’t care. One day when he was documented as a famous person in literature, they would feel bad for making fun of him.

The only reason people said this was because he hardly ever left his house. When he went grocery shopping, he would buy imperishable foods and eat whenever he pleased. He lived alone and hadn’t had a girlfriend since high school, so this wasn’t a problem for him.

He stood up and walked into his bathroom. He didn’t realize how disgusting he had become. He had a ring of fat around his belly, wore wrinkled dirty clothes, and hadn’t tended to his hygiene in weeks. He decided he needed to clean up a bit, so he flushed his toilet, which held accumulated waste, and picked up his toothbrush. He realized it had been so long since he brushed his teeth, that he couldn’t find his toothpaste. He sighed and decided he would need to make a trip to the grocery store. He scrubbed on his filthy teeth with water and the toothbrush, and pulled out a brush to comb his hair.

He went to his closet and pulled out a vest and khaki pants. It wasn’t cold today or anything, he just felt like dressing like this. He had these kind of weird whims a lot. That is why I’m a poet, he thought. Most people don’t realize my talent.

He found a pair of knee high socks and pulled them up. He then found his dress shoes. Might as well look nice, he thought. He walked into the bathroom to see how he looked, and he realized he looked way to old to be 32. He had graying hair, that was quickly disappearing in the front, causing him to have a horrendous comb over. His teeth looked ancient, and his clothes, he wouldn’t even go there.

He tore off the clothes, throwing them on the floor, and pulled out a t-shirt and some jeans with ankle socks and tennis shoes. He messed with his hair, causing it to stick in every direction. Much better, he thought.

He walked out to his car, and the warm, humid, Corpus Christi air greeted him. He opened the door of his car and jumped in.

It was a 1978 silver Lincoln Town Car. The paint had begun to peel and the leather inside the car was cracked and lumpy.

When he had bought it he had thought it would be really cool. He got it at a second hand store for a good price, he had wanted a car and that was all he could afford at the time. He couldn’t afford much better now.

Being a poet wasn’t a very rewarding job. He only sold about one poem to various publishing companies that really appreciated his talents. He had always known he wanted to be a poet, ever since one of the other kids’ dads in 2nd grade came and talked about being a poet on career day.

Everyone made fun of the kid, but it had inspired Lawrence.

He had gone home that day and worked on his first poem. It was about a dog, the smooth fur, the cute ears, the sweet eyes. He had asked to read it for the class and the teacher had agreed.

He read the whole thing, so brave, and his best friend had burst out laughing. The rest of the class followed his example, and Lawrence had run out of the room crying. He wished he could just forget that memory. Ever since then, he had been a loner. He never had friends and there were lots of roomers spread about him.

Girls never liked him, and even when they got to high school, he could only get dates to the prom from desperate, ugly, smart girls who wouldn’t be asked out by any of the other guys.

Lawrence decided to save himself the embarrassment and didn’t finish his senior year, but dropped out and began his career.

He shook his head and woke himself out of his thoughts and tried to start his car. It clocked, purred, and fell silent. He turned the key again. Another click, purr, and silence.

He kicked at the gas petal. He should have known this would happen, he used the car so little and it was so old. Oh, well, he thought. I can get some exercise and ride my bike to the store.

He got out of the car being sure to kick on his way out. He rummaged through all the junk in his small garage, and pulled out a bike. It had huge wheels, a red bike. It had a basket on the front and the wheels were completely flat.

This is why I never go out, he thought. It’s too much work. He continued rummaging; pushing aside a large dull object that he had no idea what it was for. He finally pulled out and air pump, and worked the air into the tires through the rusty pipe.

When he was finally done, he got on and began pedaling. He was already panting by the second block, and he had no idea how he was going to haul his fat butt the whole 2 miles to the grocery store.

He figured he had gone about a mile, so he took a break. Sweat was pouring down his back, causing his t-shirt to cling to his large belly.

I need to lose some weight, he thought. He caught his breath and resumed his ride. By the time he got to the grocery store, he was dead tired. His legs were wobbly and he was very thirsty. He strapped his bike down and decided he would get one of those automated carts for the people with disabilities to give his legs a rest.

He climbed on the cart, and the first thing he did when he rode into the store, was take a big circle.

People stared at him with looks of disgust, mothers hurrying their children out of the store and as far away from him as possible. After he finished playing in circles, he zoomed down the aisles as fast the thing could go, not shopping, but just riding.

Then he decided they were too slow so he abandoned it in the middle of aisle 4, right next to the canned tomatoes, blocking most of the aisle with his sideways parking. He got up and walked to the hygiene aisle to get his toothpaste.

While I’m here, I might as well stock up, he thought. He grabbed a bunch of Chef Boyardee raviolis off the shelf, then got two packages of Oreos and walked to the self checkout.

He had never used these before, it should be cool, he thought. He stuck out his hand and waved it in front of the screen. Nothing happened.

He looked closer, and saw with his awful vision from being on the computer all the time, a button that said, ‘touch here to begin’.

He poked at the button, and up popped a screen saying, ‘Please scan your first item’. He picked up the Oreos and waved them over the scanner. He heard a click and the name Oreo, popped up on the screen along with the price.

Cool, he thought. Suddenly he had an idea. He hoisted himself up on the counter and tried to scan his rear.

A cashier who was monitoring the stations walked over.

“Sir? Sir? You need to remove yourself, please,” she had a stern voice, and looked a little younger than himself.

“Sorry, just wanted to see what would happen,” he said. This is why people thought he was crazy, most people wouldn’t have done this, and if they had, they would have been embarrassed to be caught, but he wasn’t embarrassed at all.

He decided he would write a poem about the self checkout station at the grocery store. He smiled at the thought.

The young woman hovered over his shoulder the rest of the time to make sure he wouldn’t do anything stupid.

He turned to look at her and realized how pretty she was. She had long bouncing brown curls, brown eyes, complimented with that stuff that girls smear all over their eyelids. She was wearing big silver hoop earrings, and bright red nail polish. She had a cute smile and her eyes twinkled. He took a step toward her, and ran his hand through his greasy, unwashed hair.

She took a step backward in disgust.

“So what is your name?” he asked.

“Michaela,” she said, then followed with, “The machine needs you to continue.”

“Oh,” he said, and when he turned his back to her, she snuck away and sent and old, heavy set woman to replace her. The woman looked bored, and she didn’t want to stand their long.

He knew the girl was way out of his league, he clammed up around girls, because he knew none of them ever liked him. He wasn’t a very attractive man. He had a larger nose than most people, a little extra weight, grayish brown hair, thinning on the top, and he was dirty. He decided he would take a shower today.

All of a sudden, he got embarrassed, and finished and hurried out the door. He unhooked his bike, and began the long ride home, now the basket on the bike full of junk food.

I should have gotten something healthier, I could slim up a bit. Oh, well, its not like a little weight would make me any more eligible for a girl like her.

He pulled to a stop, all sweaty, and decided to take a shower for the first time in about a week...or two.

~writer564