Music

Richard sniffed as he looked at the slush gather by the wayside. Being a coach driver in 19th century England was far from desirable, even more so at election time. Corpulent politicians would seem to need perpetual ferrying, come hell or high water. They would bark out commands, without so much as a please. The charges barely kept ol' Mattie, his study mare, alive. One aspect Richard never compromised on would be that of his horse. He always ensured that she was well fed and watered. A real treat for his two kids, Roberta and Janie, would be to feed sugar cubes to the mollycoddled Mattie, whom seemed to be the only well-fed member of the family.

There were four of them. Richard, his wonderful wife Justine, and the two girls. He worked hard at his job, but at times, he could barely make ends meet. They went hungry at times, and nothing broke poor Richard's heart more than seeing his three cherubs gritting their teeth through the pain. They did their best to appear happy and unaffected, and he silently thanked God every day for such a wonderfully compassionate and understanding family. Every night, he promised to work a little harder the next day.

Richard had just begun pulling late night work, or 'night shifts', as put by some fancy bureaucrat. The work was a hard slog, with barely any rest for Mattie nor him for near 12 hour stretches. Back-breaking indeed, but if it kept them from starving, he would damn well do it. The hours passed slowly.

The chilly air didn't help his cough one bit. It had only been minor last year, but had grown steadily worse due to it being in the deep of winter. The worst fit had come about when he had had to wait for a Lord What's-His-Name to finish some uppity fancy dress ball, in the driving snow. No one had offered him shelter, and he had not asked for any. A silly move, in retrospect, but one which his pride had disallowed him from embarking on then.

As he watched the snow turn into muck, Richard drew a deep, long swig of tea from the flask Justine had lovingly prepared for him. The hot tea did him good, but it was not very effective against the biting snow. "There there Mattie," he murmured to his horse as he patted her neck. She tended to get skittish when the wind blew too hard. Richard reached into his lapel and pulled out a carrot, which he held out to Mattie. "Have a bit of this old girl, it'll do yer a power of good,"

Mattie proceeded to scarf the carrot down, and neighed softly. "You're welcome girl," replied Richard. The muffled clop of Mattie's hooves upon the pavement was the only sound to be heard on this cold, bitter night.

And then...

I was struck with laziness beyond compare. My body struggled to cope with words... I was like a dead cheetah on a trampoline, going without actually knowing why or how... Call me Rob Zombie...

Pretentious

Yeah, its bad. Like, y'know, when you don't like someone, say it to his/her face. Don't keep it in man, as it'll fester and turn into Pugsley Adam.

Word.

Akka Magga