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just a picture of a cloud
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Lying on the ground on Earth, Johnny Ray McKay wondered how far away the sky was. Far, far above him it began to darken.

Things had gone to shit here, as things were wont to do, and Johnny had come as close as he ever had in his short life to dying, or so he thought. You never knew though, did you? Maybe the apple next to the one he'd picked from the selection had been full of poison and pestilence. Maybe a rattlesnake'd crawled up to him once and kept on crawling. Maybe a lightning bolt had forked its way elsewhere when it'd been destined for his tender head. You couldn't tell, could you, just how many deaths you'd dodged.

Shit, maybe he was overdue.

Johnny spat. He had books out from every library stupid enough to issue him a card, and if he knew his parents as well as he thought he did, those venerable institutions wouldn't be seeing a page of their literature ever again. He had no problems with being overdue.

Nobody would describe Johnny as being overburdened with courtesy, but in fairness people only learn what they're taught, and precious little courtesy had been done to him. Johnny had been disrespected, disregarded and dismissed by every citizen of the great metropolis of Kingman in good standing, and goddammit just a little politeness was owed to him, he felt. Death could wait on him, for a little while longer at least.

Fuck dying just yet.

On the ground next to him Raina heaved and sobbed. Johnny did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice.

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Coward Mont Blanc · Crematorium Gardens