Gerald And His Street Cred

Gerald, the slow rotting Easter bunny, sat on a weather worn bench and tried not to shift his vaguely itching ass for fear of getting a sliver he could not reach. Spring had moved from its wet and cold stage to its overly bright and warm stage practically overnight. It was as if someone in Season Control had flipped a switched.

Groaning, Gerald looked out over an expanse of well mowed park. He was way too hot to deal with this kind of day. He was also way too hung over to deal with this kind of day. The brightly colored flowers shot rays of pain directly into his corneas and the heat seemed to be baking his brain inside his nappy fur covered skull. The baking brain theory would be a good explanation for the pulsing headache that made him feel like sicking up his Old Crow breakfast.

"Jesus," he said to no one at all. "Shouldn't I be in a hole or something?"

Gerald didn't have a hole. He had a shitty, unclean, one bedroom apartment over on Water Street so close to the train tracks that he could feel the Burlington Northern's passing as he sat on the couch he'd pulled from the dump. Technically he talked a couple of fifteen year olds into pulling the couch out for him, promising them a bottle of cut rate vodka, of which he drank half and replaced with water.

"What up Gerald?" some college fuck sat down next to him. Gerald got the feeling that hanging out with him became some sort of bragging point within the college fuck community.

"What's up kid?" Gerald coughed which turned into a retch that he almost didn't recover from without making a mess.

"Whoah! What's that smell?"

"Your probably smelling the stench you mom left on my face last night."

The kid laughed and pulled a joint from his breast pocket, lit it up. Gerald watched him, once again fighting back the urge to vomit. The kid looked over at him with half lidded eyes and offered the joint his way. Gerald put the joint to his lips, and with one immense intake, turned the rest of the doobie to ash.

"Way to bogart it man," the kid said with an uncomfortable laugh.

Gerald began coughing, his entire shambling body shaking. It was one of those coughs that started a domino effect of more coughs. Gerald's aching eyes began tearing up.

"I mean seriously dude," the kid began. "I was trying to be..."

Gerald's coughing crossed a threshold, and with a sound like something being torn in half, Gerald ralphed all over the kid's legs.

"Better," Gerald said.

"Dude!" was all the kid could think to say.

"You're lucky I don't cover you with a bunch of little shit pellets." Gerald shifted his bulk off of the bench to begin his shuffling trek to his apartment and managed to imbed a green painted sliver into the flesh of his haunch.

"Mother puss bucket," he muttered.