After Damon awoke he found himself laying on the floor for several minutes contemplating as to what just happened. Might have just been the drugs I suppose.
As soon as he got up he went to the shower to meditate on his thoughts, he stood for a long time meandering on the images he saw in his dreams, how vivid and intense they seems to be. I just need a good nights rest and then I'll be okay in the morning. As soon as he got out of the restroom and got dressed for bed he realised it was already five a.m. 'Well I suppose I'll just stay up until head into town today'.
Three hours passed and Damon decided to go into down to pick up supplies for the cabin, he went to the local small town retail store. A man named Jack managed the place, he had a local reputation for being both cheap and having a less than favourable nature about him. "Stopped by for some supplies eh Damon"?
"I just need some more ink pens and type writer paper" he said. Damon noticed Jacks diminished appearance and noticeable grogginess. He looked as if he'd been on a three day drinking binge, his eyes were sunken in, rough unshaven beard and a pale complexion gave Damon the notion that he'd had a trying past few days.
"What's wrong with you Jack? You seem a bit worse for wear."
"Uh nothing I'm fine, just fine. How's the writing going?"
"Are you sure? You seem really rough, how've you been?"
"I said I'm fine Damon, get your fucking supplies and get out my store."
"Fine I'm going didn't need to get upset, I'm leaving."
Jack should really go fuck himself, he need to get out or something, staying inside your store all day with access to the liquor aisle must take a toll on him. Damon began to get angry thinking about the whole predicament, he started clenching his jaw tightly and balling up his fists. His anger often took control of his body when it warranted. Everything would become affiliated with how he was feeling, he couldn't control it sometimes, sometimes everything would turn a deep dark black and he would lose all train of thought, all sense of being and rationalisation. He became not like himself, something would click and he would become immensely catatonic with no reaction. It was like the lights were on, but no one was home, everything just washed over his being with no sense of where and what he was being involved with. He found himself blankly standing outside of the store, he had no clue how long he had been standing for or what had occurred between the elapsed time, no sense of thing, just null emotive responses with no urge to inquire as to what just happened. Damon just continued on to his car with the notion that he had dozed off in a sudden day dream and forgot all about his anger.
Driving home Damon encountered another day-dream when he arrived back at the cabin, this time he was on the back porch beginning to read Upton Sinclair's "The Jungle" it was his favourite other than "Oil!". He went to sit down and remembered the incident that occurred earlier on. His anger arose in him again with a stronger semblance hatred, more so than he felt more commonly. He wanted to do something about it.
Jack is a fucking cunt
The more Damon dwelt on the matter the worse he began to feel, he simply could not, did not, want to deal with the stress, so he thought of beating him, he thought of take a large blunt instrument and bashing his skull in. He could only vent through his hatred, he always felt the need to hurt someone that made him this angry, but he couldn't, that would be inhuman of him. He proceeded to indulge in his malevolent thoughts and meditated on the fact that he needed to do something about his repressed anger. I just need to see a doctor a good professional, someone that actually cares, good, cognitive, and pays attention. He lit a cigar he had in the ash tray and opened up the novel and started to read.
The next few hours went by relatively smoothly with no antagonizing thoughts or controversial emotions. Damon simply just sat, relaxed, and smoked a quality cigar while reading some old books he had on the coffee table, he felt better, at peace and relaxed, almost completely passive. It was nightfall when he decided that maybe it would be good to go on an evening stroll with Simon, as he could never really sleep during the night. As he was exiting the house he noticed something in the far east side of the clearing before you entered the woods, he couldn't make out what it was for all he knew it was a bush or a tree cascading a shadow. He paid it no attention more and traveled onward down the old dirt road he lived on towards the other side of the property where he often took Simon out to strut around.
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