Tuesday, October 6, 2015

73. Stranded in a Wasteland
Phil came back the next day. The police had been called after he passed out in public. They dropped him off at the hospital. The hospital discharged him back to the shelter. Phil didn’t think his binge had been a big deal because he hadn’t gone to jail.  
 “You were stranded in the middle of a wasteland,” I said. “That’s just as bad.”
“I wasn’t stranded, I was in the library.”
 “Drunk as you were, nothing in the library was any use to you.  Seems like a waste to me.  Nobody wanted to be near you, you were all alone. You couldn’t get home on your own. In a wasteland, all alone, with no way to get home.  Isn't that being stranded?”
“Still don’t think it was a wasteland,” Phil said.
“Wastelands are everywhere.  People drinking to get numb, working long hours to avoid a home life, having sex instead of relationships, are all stranded in wastelands.  And those are just a few of the wastelands.  You gotta stay out of the wastelands and get home to Carolyn.”
Today I will stay out of wastelands.

Writing My New Story © 2015 by Ken Montrose

(Just a reminder: Writing My New Story is a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to anyone you might know is purely coincidental.)

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