(Day 11 Morning Work Thread)

Life sucks.

The young man thought to himself, casting out his rod into the empty blue deep of the Tokyo imitation land's river. The bob would hit the river and have a deep resounding sound as it laid there. The phrase echod in Ricky's mind, causing him to seriously contemplate what he was doing with himself. Why was fishing the only thing he really wanted to do? Was this all he was going to do with himself? Was there anything more for him besides killing himself slowly by constantly sitting at the fucking river day by day hour by hour until he didn't want to goddamn fish anymore!? Anger pulsated in Ricky's mind for one of the first times in a long time ever, his veins bulged to indicate the young mans frustration at his current life's situation. Where was the meaning? Why did he feel so good doing it but now feel so shitty?

A sudden tug of the line interrupted Ricky's train of thought, leaving him startled. "Woah!" The young man shouted as he nearly fell back from shaking up to this. It was quite startling to him to have anything interrupt his deep contemplation. A quick reel of the line and some pulling would cause him to hoist up a small little snapper out of the riverway. As Ricky drew it in and held it in his hand there was this sense of emptiness in the fishes eyes that he could not help but feel fascinated by....The death in it's eyes, the stillness of it's body... The fish may have flapped around here and there, but it seemed so succulent to the young man. The forgotten's shadow weapon wanted to curl out of his mouth, to wrap around the fish and suck all of the vital juices out of it dry right then and there! Yet there was the matter of him being in public...The matter of him being unable to do as he pleased with these new found urges... It filled him with a strange and sudden perverse pleasure....


Quickly, and suddenly Ricky would pack away the fish in his cooler before excitedly sending out his rod again into the river. Hoping to catch another fish. There was something about what he was feeling that felt so mystical and magical, like when a child gets its first toy... Ricky wanted to catch the fish, to stare into their cold and lifeless eyes as he harvested them. Ricky's mind wanted to resist these weird urges he was getting, but a part of him said no...

Sadly, Ricky was once again in all hilarity interrupted by the sudden tug of his line, which caused him to fall over sprawled onto the ground and lose the grip on his rod. "Oh fuck!" He shouted, moving immediately to grab it and start reeling it in. This was so embarrassing, to get wrapped up in minor thoughts and have the fish come right into his lap! Finally clasping his hands on the rod and reeling it in fully, he would hoist into the air a bright red fresh snapper!

...Before the fish was hoisted too high, and it collided onto ricky's face. He had failed to realized that the so much strength was put into the pull it had slammed onto him. Giggling a little to himself, ricky would harvest the delectable snapper before putting it into the cooler. The damn fish looked so tasty...Like a forbidden fruit that the boy wished he could devour upon and eat. The shadow weapon within him was really beginning to effect his mind at this point in time...Allowing for his brain to be possessed by predatory instinct, and less and less human rationale by the day. There was no reason to behave normally, no reason to act in the "norm". He was strange, bizarre and even had been a complete loner for a long time before he gained this strange weapon. Even now he was still a complete loner knowing absolute nobody and barely interaction with anybody at all. This made it so simple and clean for Ricky's mind to slowly be overtaken by his shadow weapon. Yet he was getting too caught up in his thoughts once again, with haste he would throw out his rod a final time.

This time however his rod would fail to immediately catch anything, the young forgotten would sit there for minutes upon minutes and fail to catch or take notice of any sort of tug on his line. The time this was taking began to whittle upon his patience, to carve at it like a knife on wood. Pieces upon Pieces of his ability to wait and be patient for one of these stupid freakin fish to appear would crumble like blocks of dough and fade into nothing. Was this what it was like to be a hunter? Was Ricky at this point in time hunting? The question assailed him while preforming such a mundane activity. What was he truly now? Could he consider himself to be a regular human being anymore?

These fragments of thought pounded themselves through his brain like a nest of bees within their hive. Constantly buzzing upon buzzing near and at each other all over the place. Yearning to come out and be active or pollinate or whatever the hell bees do. Shaking and curdling within the depths of his mind, thoughts of his family and the friends he lost previously did not come so easily to him these days. Instead these haunting ideas of predation pondered their way through his daily activities. The fish was taking so long to come onto his rod, it made him wonder if they had all screwed off from the commotion he was creating earlier. "Damn, hope I didn't scare the fish away!".In a way he could have however, what with his unusual thoughts and unusual nature and constantly shaking the rod around until something bit. It was hellish to keep up with this waiting, this act would cause Ricky to reel his rod in and start to pack up his stuff for the day. There were clearly no more fish to be caught, nothing more to "hunt" upon.

Life sucks, but now Life sucked a little less for him.

[Fin]