A Case of Too Much Fun
A little voice whispered, out of the darkness: "You'll never learn."
It was a sing songy little voice, and it was dead right. He never would learn.
Give him a fishing pole, a year long subscription to the fishing channel, and a boat with a fish finder and he'd still be no better off than when he had none of those things. In fact, he might have drowned, which would be a lot worse off than he presently was, in fact.
What he presently was was unemployed, hiking down the road cutting through a dark forest, with a small backpack with a sandwich and a bottle of water, and tired.
And hearing voices, taunting little voices. It was at least a couple steps above drowning, at any rate.
When the little horned thing leapt out of the brush at the side of the road he descended a couple more steps down towards drowning. And when it stepped closer and he saw how many horns the little guy had on him, stubbly little, slimy looking horns, and a pair of dripping fangs leaping, themselves, out over his lower lip, well, he thought about drowning, and how close he might be to that benchmark of "how well am I doing at any given moment?"
The little sing songy voice that followed, nearly scaring his pants off, coming from such a small, ugly little thing, also probably took him down a rung closer. "Have you got any smokes?" said the little creature.
Well that one, at least, he did learn. After the last time, he always carried a pack of cigarettes on him, even though he didn't smoke.
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