CaptainWacky
I want to smell dark matter
Charles Horse was lying on his bed trying to masturbate.
This was usual for him.
He tried more than he did.
And, if he was honest, lately he'd been giving up more than he tried.
He'd given up.
He heard them outside. The young people. Teenagers? Early twenties? He couldn't tell anymore. They could drive. They were younger than him. He didn't want to look at them.
He hated how happy they sounded.
Laughing, being loud. Being ROWDY.
Was that a word people used?
He heard the car. Why did they rev it up like that? What did that even do? He didn't understand cars.
He stood up, frustrated.
Right as he did, the car drove by. He looked out for just a second, less than a second.
One of them had his head right out of the window. He was wearing a hat. A fucking hat. He looked right at Charles. He made a nosie. It was like "wahey!" But not really. Not like that at all. No one says wahey. More like "WAAAAH". It was loud and obnoxious and aimed at Charles Horse, as far as Charles Horse knew. It was meant to mock him. It must have been.
How had the young person even known Charles was there? How had he known Charles was to be mocked. He'd seen him for less than a second and still made the judgement that Charles Horse was someone to be mocked. Did he really look that bad? He must.
Maybe they'd been watching him trying to mastrubate. No, that was impossible. He'd been lying in his bed. Upstairs! They were down on the street. They could not have possibly seen him. Unless everything he knew about perspective was wrong. But no, there was no way.
So he really had known, instinctively, that Charles Horse was someone to mock. He'd just known. They all knew. Charles Horse sent off signals that he wasn't like other people. That they should mock him. He wasn't supposed to fucking exist.
He punched his bed.
THREE DAYs LATER
Charles Horse was walking down the street to post a letter.
He hated being outside. It was a hot day, so people would be looking.
He hated people looking.
Still, he'd gotten there without anyone seeing. He posted the letter, proud of himself. A car was driving by.
He heard it again. The same noise. "WAAAAH!" He saw the same young person. Same hat. Same screwed up face. He looked drunk, in fact. What were the odds that they'd be driving by? Had they followed Charles Horse?
Charles Horse wanted to run home.
But wait. That face had been really screwed up...
Was the young person actually a retard?
He'd assumed it was just a normal young person because of the rowdiness. But that "WAAAAH" sounded almost slurred. Maybe he had been drunk...but maybe he was a retard.
Maybe he just shouted "WAAAAH" at everyone. Maybe he was with his brothers and sisters and they let him hang out the window going "WAAAAH" becaue he was a retard.
That made Charles Horse feel better.
For about a second.
Because maybe, just maybe, he was a retard but he didn't "WAAAAH" at everyone.
Mabye he'd done it at Charles Horse because he had recognised that Charles Horse was a retard too.
Maybe he'd been trying to communciate.
Charles Horse felt so fucking pathetic.
That retard, if he was one, had a better fucking life that Charles Horse anyway.
He didn't really know if he was a retard, a young person, if he'd been mocking or reaching out or if it was just a coincidence and had nothing to do with Charles Horse.
But whatever it was...Charles Horse felt like shit.
He want to go home and die.
But he'd just go home and lie down instead.
Waaaah.
This was usual for him.
He tried more than he did.
And, if he was honest, lately he'd been giving up more than he tried.
He'd given up.
He heard them outside. The young people. Teenagers? Early twenties? He couldn't tell anymore. They could drive. They were younger than him. He didn't want to look at them.
He hated how happy they sounded.
Laughing, being loud. Being ROWDY.
Was that a word people used?
He heard the car. Why did they rev it up like that? What did that even do? He didn't understand cars.
He stood up, frustrated.
Right as he did, the car drove by. He looked out for just a second, less than a second.
One of them had his head right out of the window. He was wearing a hat. A fucking hat. He looked right at Charles. He made a nosie. It was like "wahey!" But not really. Not like that at all. No one says wahey. More like "WAAAAH". It was loud and obnoxious and aimed at Charles Horse, as far as Charles Horse knew. It was meant to mock him. It must have been.
How had the young person even known Charles was there? How had he known Charles was to be mocked. He'd seen him for less than a second and still made the judgement that Charles Horse was someone to be mocked. Did he really look that bad? He must.
Maybe they'd been watching him trying to mastrubate. No, that was impossible. He'd been lying in his bed. Upstairs! They were down on the street. They could not have possibly seen him. Unless everything he knew about perspective was wrong. But no, there was no way.
So he really had known, instinctively, that Charles Horse was someone to mock. He'd just known. They all knew. Charles Horse sent off signals that he wasn't like other people. That they should mock him. He wasn't supposed to fucking exist.
He punched his bed.
THREE DAYs LATER
Charles Horse was walking down the street to post a letter.
He hated being outside. It was a hot day, so people would be looking.
He hated people looking.
Still, he'd gotten there without anyone seeing. He posted the letter, proud of himself. A car was driving by.
He heard it again. The same noise. "WAAAAH!" He saw the same young person. Same hat. Same screwed up face. He looked drunk, in fact. What were the odds that they'd be driving by? Had they followed Charles Horse?
Charles Horse wanted to run home.
But wait. That face had been really screwed up...
Was the young person actually a retard?
He'd assumed it was just a normal young person because of the rowdiness. But that "WAAAAH" sounded almost slurred. Maybe he had been drunk...but maybe he was a retard.
Maybe he just shouted "WAAAAH" at everyone. Maybe he was with his brothers and sisters and they let him hang out the window going "WAAAAH" becaue he was a retard.
That made Charles Horse feel better.
For about a second.
Because maybe, just maybe, he was a retard but he didn't "WAAAAH" at everyone.
Mabye he'd done it at Charles Horse because he had recognised that Charles Horse was a retard too.
Maybe he'd been trying to communciate.
Charles Horse felt so fucking pathetic.
That retard, if he was one, had a better fucking life that Charles Horse anyway.
He didn't really know if he was a retard, a young person, if he'd been mocking or reaching out or if it was just a coincidence and had nothing to do with Charles Horse.
But whatever it was...Charles Horse felt like shit.
He want to go home and die.
But he'd just go home and lie down instead.
Waaaah.
