As you may know, I follow the online creative writing course held gratis et amore Dei Cajelli Diego, the "DiegozilLab.
The task was to write a self-contained stories, maximum 2000 characters, about a person (or character interpreted by them) assigned at the beginning of the course. It happened to me
Ozzy Osbourne.
First reaction: m'invento and that on him?
Second reaction: quiet, Matt, is' what you do best, documented.
So, procured the official biography of Ozzy, here is the result.
is very different from my usual stuff, which, for a year, I guess is good.
is inspired by a true story, very true, sadly true, a little romanticized by myself.
_______________________________________________________
the fifth job lost in three years (yet another fight, the slaughter of pigs), I decided it did not work for me: I became a "John the thief."
three months in prison, less than eighteen years and not the physical fights: long hair and tattoos on his knuckles made by me, there, not worth a shit.
Everything smelled of human odors, and all dripping with hate. Those who received more hate and fists, of all people, was Bradley.
Bradley had a sign on the cell: "Rule 43" in practice meant "make his life a shit." He had come after me, convicted of raping seventeen children, including his son.
I use my best gift I was good at the sucker, and I made some 'friends' important': I I made them laugh, and they prevented it breaks bones.
I began to distribute the rations, including Bradley: I was told to give him little or nothing, and so I did.
He looked with a broken nose, the day before by one with a snake tattooed on his face.
I did, and I felt pity: the sharp sound of his nose disappeared in the face, and his screams, like a pig slaughterhouse.
Bradley seemed bent an animal, such as the circus, which by dint of beating lose all will to live: never went out of his cell, was a problem.
They ordered me and another washing. They dragged him outside, away from the bucket for excrement, which overturned, and he dirtied the floor.
While we spent the scope on him, he was shaking, his nose bruised and dark, and maybe crying.
I had another of pity for him, but then looked at me.
was only a moment, but I realized that was not bent at all. She was only humbled, but the hatred was inside him, ready to explode.
I realized that I could choose. Do something decent, or return to share my life with people like him.
I went out in 6 weeks, "good behavior".
I attacked around an ad. "OZZY ZIG NEEDS GIG", "Ozzy Zig seeks engagement."
The rest you know maybe I was good at the sucker, I made some friends.
_______________________________________________________
0 comments:
Post a Comment