Zankio
The Last to Post
The Wanderer watched the Helicopter fly above, and away. He'd spotted it through the fog, heading off to the Country Club, and now he's gazing from the treeline - watching in the quiet solitude of his car while people were boarding the way out.
But the Wanderer couldn't leave yet.
He has many, many, many miles yet to go.
To outrun this beast.
Karma
There's no way to escape - But that's okay.
It's his weight to carry from this world and the next.
Whirl Whirl Whirl
He watched them say goodbye.
How much farther can a man run? He wondered.
Then, the metal bird disappeared into the fog.
Did it even matter?
He watched her smoke against the wall awhile.
There are more important things to worry about right now.
Then, finally, he watched her put a gun to her chin.
He's got to try and give her something.
He stepped out his car and emerged from the treeline. He knows she probably has her reasons. He also knows there probably pretty good ones, too, considering current events. But he had to try. He had to try and help her. He could never live with himself if he didn't. As the woman sat in silence, contemplating, undoubtedly, about important stuff. He interrupted the heavy silence with an exaggerated southern accent.
"Care for a drink, ma'am?"
He shook a small bottle of Rye Whiskey. And offered a gentle, wry grin of hope.
If maybe she could stand to open her eyes for a little while longer.
"By the way, my name ain't even Benny."
But the Wanderer couldn't leave yet.
He has many, many, many miles yet to go.
To outrun this beast.
Karma
There's no way to escape - But that's okay.
It's his weight to carry from this world and the next.
Whirl Whirl Whirl
He watched them say goodbye.
How much farther can a man run? He wondered.
Then, the metal bird disappeared into the fog.
Did it even matter?
He watched her smoke against the wall awhile.
There are more important things to worry about right now.
Then, finally, he watched her put a gun to her chin.
He's got to try and give her something.
He stepped out his car and emerged from the treeline. He knows she probably has her reasons. He also knows there probably pretty good ones, too, considering current events. But he had to try. He had to try and help her. He could never live with himself if he didn't. As the woman sat in silence, contemplating, undoubtedly, about important stuff. He interrupted the heavy silence with an exaggerated southern accent.
"Care for a drink, ma'am?"
He shook a small bottle of Rye Whiskey. And offered a gentle, wry grin of hope.
If maybe she could stand to open her eyes for a little while longer.
"By the way, my name ain't even Benny."
