Rick just stood there. No expression on his face. Lady kept on talking but her words sounded like Charlie Brown’s teacher. Just all mumbles and background noise. He was just focused on that one question. Where was he going?
Rick continued to put things in a backpack. He walked around the apartment, grabbing only the essentials. Underwear, deodorant, couple shirts, socks, toothpaste, toothbrush, and some Silk City Hot Sauce. There really is no more flavorful sauce in the world then Silk City Hot Sauce. Locally grown ingredients and it enhances food instead of dominating food. But, this isn’t a commercial for Silk City Hot Sauce, this is a turning moment in Rick’s up to now miserable existence.
Rick started walking towards the door. Still in a trance. Did he have a plan? Could he leave Lady? Was she right, is he useless without someone telling him that he is stupid? Then Rick heard a voice. It wasn’t Lady’s. She was still yapping. It was Crackhead Dave’s voice. You can’t tell wind stuff. Crackhead’s gotta crack. Some song by Fleetwood Mac. That drug riddled fool was right. No more being what others want him to be. Time to be what he wants to be. Rick didn’t have a clue what that was. But he sure as hell knew what that wasn’t.
“I can’t do this anymore, Lady. I’ve got to go find me.”
“Shotgun!” Crackhead Dave yelled from the window. Apparently that wasn’t Rick hearing the motivational voice in his head. Crackhead Dave was outside the window, just stalking and being creepy like Crackhead…
