my barefeet were feeling itchy in the grass and it made me wonder if i had left my shoes somewhere unfortunate, like the public change rooms or worse, the auction mart. i walked toward the asphalt parking lot and stepped on something that bit my foot
"MEEOOWCH!!!!!!"
i hopped up and looked down to see that i had stepped on the butt of a cigarette which was still burning. i licked my hand and wiped the bottom of my foot, three girls on their "cruiser" bicycles pedaled past, the brunette looked at me, i smiled, she didn't.
"nice bike" i mumbled and spit on the smoldering cigarette butt.
i could smell something burning as i walked toward the smokey truck and i wasn't sure it wasn't my skin. there were at least twenty people gathered around the box of the truck where the smoke was coming up, and i pushed through to get a look at the hot dogs.
when i was fifteen i had once walked for four hours after falling off the back of a ford pick-up truck that i had hitched a ride with between two towns. i'm not sure if the driver noticed me fall off but when i hit the ground i rag dolled so terribly that my shoes flew off and he probably didn't want to stick around in case i was dead. i couldn't find my shoes and had to walk the distance barefoot. after about three hours i came across a box of photographs that seemed to have been thrown out of a passing car. there were pictures of a white cat, someone eating birthday cake in a hot tub and someone else playing baseball and in one of the baseball ones i could see my mother eating a hot dog in the background. i kept that one and one of the cat ones, and when i got back into town i asked my mom who the baseball player was and she said it was Henry Ford. i incorrectly perceived all of this to be ironic.
there were no hot dogs in the back of the truck, just someone who had set numerous bags of doritos alight and was attempting to do firewalking across the blue flaming mass. more talk about burnt feet. i left there feeling a slight loss of appetite and with confirmation that the offspring of the caveman will continually spiral like a bunch of toilet matter into the future, i push on with my search none the less.
i had not grown tired of my day at the beach but the continuous exposure to the sun and her doing had given me a mild case of hyper paranoia and i lost trust in the basic. i stole a pair of sandals as i am, by this point in the story, expected to do and "flip flopped" my way into a shady back alley where i watched a cat play second fiddle with a piece of battered cod fish. i sat on the stairs of a vacant building and closed my eyes for a few minutes, catching my breath and feeling the breeze from the lane way move on my facial hair. i heard the sound of a television set coming from an apartment across the way and i looked up for the curtains which i assumed to be moving inside of an open window. there were a few small balconies set off from a fire escape that criss-crossed up the back of a red brick building and among the odd planters and plastic chairs i spotted a small hibachi bbq on the fourth floor with an easily recognizable sizzle emerging from it's cast iron hull. of course, i climbed the stairs. and you will find out what happens in part 3 of this ludicrous train.