I have dug into my old files and have excavated my old childhood writings out of the antiquated file format they were saved in. I am copying them into new formats and decided that I should go ahead and put these out into the world. The "poems" and stories were all written 26 years ago when I was about 12 years old in 1992 and very few of them were shown to anyone outside my family. Now that I am reading through them I am cringing, A LOT! I started to edit the wording but decided I'm better off leaving the writing as is since this was how I wrote at that time.

^Source

I am completely unsure of when, why, or how I came up with this story line. In opening the various files in my folder I came upon this couple pages of writing and it has me stumped. I have a very very vague recollection of the story but that is all. Most of my other writings I have at least a smidgen of memory of and a sense of the direction they were going, save this one. The date on the original file is 12/22/1994 which would put me in high school, so that can probably give an idea of the direction of the story....

Hormonally Driven Content!

Natel

As he walked into the bar, Natel noticed that the air was actually clean. Unlike most bars that he had been in, this one was wonderful. The bar was spotless and the floor was clean, considering that people had been walking on it all night.

Natel walked up to the bar and sat down on one of the light green bar stools. The bar tender came up to Natel and asked, "Is there something that I could get you?"

"Yeah, you can get me one of those Chartreuse Crazy Squirrel drinks," Natel told the bartender.

"Okay, I have it for you in just a minute. By the way, my name is Jack."

"Thanks... Jack," Natel mimicked, "Oh yeah, and my name is Natel, but most people call me Nat."

While Natel waited for his drink he started to look around the half crowded bar. There were only a few couples in the corner stalls. Most everyone else was sitting at a table by themselves. There was a resonating THUNK as Jack set Natel's drink on the counter.

"That'll be $2," Jack flatly stated.

"Not a bad price for such big drink," Natel said in a rather gruff voice.

"Yeah, I try and keep the prices low so that I get a lot of returning customers," Jack said as if it were automatic.

"Well, thanks for the drink, Jack," Natel said as he got up off of the stool.

There was a woman sitting at a table by herself. She was fairly pretty. She was not anything that any sane person would look at twice. But to Natel she looked like someone who needed to talk. "Mind if I sit down?" Natel asked the woman.

"I guess not. I mean, even if I did mind you would probably sit down anyway," she said to Natel.

"Well, I really don't want to impose on your "Bad Mood Support Group" that you seem to have collected," Natel said as he motioned to all the empty seats at the woman's table.

"Fine, then leave," she said loudly.

That earned a few stares from the people at other tables. But that did not deter Natel. He was determined to talk to this woman. There was just something about her that made Natel feel that she was important.

"You look like you really need to talk," Natel said, getting into the psychologist routine that has worked so well on most women.

"Yeah, I do need to talk, just not to you," the woman said quite harshly.

"Well, that's fine. You don't have to talk. I can do the talking for both of us." "Hi" "Hey sugar" "So how are you? Are you up to it tonight?" "Oh Yes, I would love to get that big-"

"All right, all right. What do you want to talk about?" the woman asked Natel.

"Well You could start by telling me your name."

"My name's Jan. Do you have a name?"

"Yes I do. My name's Natel, or Nat for short."

"Well, now we've talked. Would you mind leaving now so I can wallow in my own self pity?" Jan asked politely.

"If you really want, then I will. Maybe I will see you around," Natel said as he took his drink and started to walk off.

"Yeah, Maybe," Natel heard Jan say as he walked back to the bar.

"So, Jack. What do you think her problem is? She seems like she should be happy," Natel said bringing his glass to his lips.

"I don't know Nat. Some people are very strange," Jack told him.

Natel scanned the room again and found to his amazement, that he was only one of three people besides Jack who were left in the bar. There was an older looking business man. His brief case was broken and in tatters. He was graying on the top of his head. The poor man looked dreadful. Pulling himself up to his full height, Natel walked over to the man's table.

"I see that you got fired today," Nat mentioned.

"Yeah... so. What's it to you? I don't see you out doing anything to help our economy," The old man said rather wearily.

"Hey now, I was just making an observation. You don't look to good," Natel said soothingly.

"Well I don't want to hear any of your crap about how the world is perfect and I should just smile and go on with life. The world doesn't work that way," The old man exclaimed.

"Did I say anything about smiling and going on with life? I really don't recall saying that. For all I care you could walk out that door and kill yourself. It would not make a bit of difference to me," Natel stated becoming very irritated.

"So if you don't care, then why don't you go talk to some other lonely soul?" The old man questioned.

"That's a good idea. Good-bye," Natel said getting up from the table.

Back at the bar again, Natel was sitting with his chin on his hand.

"Well... did you have any luck with old shit for brains?" Jack asked.

"No, it was like trying to get milk from a bull. Stubborn as one to. It's a wonder that that old man has made it through life with such a grim outlook on life," Natel muttered.

"I don't know Nat. Some people are really strange." Jack said.

"WOW. Deja vu." Natel thought. "I guess you're right." he said.

The bar being as empty as it was was still very noisy. There was two tables occupied. On by the old man, the other by a rather attractive young woman. She seemed to be looking around the room for something. Natel tried to follow her gaze but got lost when she started to do the circles and squares.

"Damn, Jack. Is she on somethin' heavy or what?" Natel murmured to Jack.

"Beats me. Go ask her. Maybe she will be civil to you," Jack pushed.

"So hows life treatin' ya?" Jack asked the young woman.

"Hi. My name is Ann. I am 24 years old. I live in Chicago Illinois. I am a hair dresser on the weekdays and an artist on the weekends," Ann stated.

"What kind of an artist are you?" Natel asked politely.

"I am an artist of pornography. I have been in fifteen movies. Do you know how many times I have had sex... forty three times. From doing just fifteen films. It should be at least one-hundred times by now," Ann kept rambling on.

"So I take it that you are a nimpho maniac?" Natel wondered out loud.

"Well now that you say that... I guess I am. I never thought of my self that way. You know, you are really neat. How would you like to have hot passionate-"

BOOOOOMMMM

Natel jumped up at the sound of the gun shot. It had come from right outside the door. He ran to the front door and threw it open. He found the old man that he had talked to earlier lying on the ground with the back of his head blown out. It was not a very pretty site. Ann had run to the door with him and was now sobbing mercilessly on his shoulder.

"Poor Ann, having to see this," Natel thought to himself. "How about if we go inside and wait for the medics to come and take him away," Natel suggested to Ann.

"That sounds like a good idea. I really need a good stiff drink," she said trying to stifle her cries and whimpers.

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