The Masked Men

Their passion was symbiotic. The creations came only from this supreme collaboration, born of fraternal blood but made from sweat and frustration. He had tried individually with less than satisfactory results, now he went along with everything he suggested caving to his internal limit. Feeling his resentment build to a frenzied level, he found that sipping on a Slushee was the only way to temper it.

Concert

The live show absorbed him. Fantasies he had created in his headphone mind were nothing like this. They were flatly black and white compared to the multi sensory gift he was now receiving. He was abducted by the sway of sound and light and gave in wholeheartedly. When it ended his soul was the richer for it.

The Stinky Truck

It was the city. He could rhapsodize about the sounds and it’s scents, swaying any non-believers. He declared it wasn’t for the faint of heart, implying that he, of course, was of strong stock. But this morning’s delivery of a charred, earthy smell was assaulting. His nostrils flared and he bee-lined for Starbucks.