Death Day

There's dead in the air, and it blew through the window.
Cider stares at his television. It's not on.
Cider rolls to his side and stares some more.
Cider falls asleep after about 5 minutes.

His dream is a pearl that some idiot accidentally swallowed while at an oyster bar.
He dreams about rosy flesh soft flesh nice flesh  pretty flesh. A flesh rose he could hold in the palm of his hand if he had it. It is large though. Larger than he is, and it splits open and swallows  whole. Smells like pansies. Cheerful pansies.
Cider wakes up gargling, with pearly white drool spilling over his face onto his pillow.
He slurps it up.

  "...fucking bitch." Cider thinks as he gets up.

Maybe you don't know...Cider's dream is always the same; and he's sick of it. Too soft for a hard ass like him.

Cider can still smell pansies. He walks to the mirror and looks at himself. He starts contorting his body in strange ways, like maybe he's trying to dance around or something.

  "Hey now, hey now, don't dreeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaammmmmmm it's overrrrrrr..."

As he says 'dream' he neighs a little.
sux 2 b a horse!

Cider wants to go out.

  "I should go out tonight" Cider thinks.

It's Friday. Funday.
He must get psyched. He pours himself a double shot of Malibu and gets some ice out of the freezer. He chomps on it and slurps on it and puts it deep in his throat to melt down his larynx. He pours the Malibu over it and chokes a little, which makes him sort of gag and almost vomit. He swallows some more ice and calms down.
Cider starts to sing, but it sounds mostly like screechy horse whinnies. He turns on the radio and shitty dance music is playing, so he puts on a New Order cd and starts stomping around. He knows that he looks like an idiot. Good thing he doesn't care. Good thing he is in the comfort of his own home...NOT!
Cider has no blinds. He's too cheap to have them; that or he tore them down while he was drunk one time. I can't remember. Some people walk by and look in through his window and stare at him.
Some idiot jerk punks. They stare at him and laugh and throw rocks at his window. Cider hears this and freaks out. He stops, and rears up so his front hooves are on the window. He presses his face against the glass and mouths the words "fuck you"
The kids give him the finger and run off.

Cider suddenly doesn't much feel like going out anymore.
He spits on the floor.

llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaattttttttttttttttttttttteeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

  "I feel as if I am slowly dying" C thinks.

  "I feel as if I want to die" C also thinks.
           "as if I want to fly"

JK. That would probably be more boring than what I am experiencing right now!
Cider slaps himself on the face. He is looking in the mirror again. He tries to think of something interesting but can't. He slaps himself again.
It's 2:30 in the morning and Cider has had a lot of coke.      a cola.
Still Friday. Still every day of the week.
There is a burning sensation.
Cider turns the lights off in his living room where the mirror is. It turns a fog feeling grayish and there is light streaming in from the street lamp outside.
Cider starts dancing fiercely. Hip hop style. He shakes his hips and puts one hoof up in the air, rhythmically pumping his body.
He is fueled by anger. He is intense.
He stops after a few minutes and falls to the ground.
Cider wants to die.