- Joined
- Sep 17, 2025
- Messages
- 2,135
- Time Online
- 3d 2h
- Reputation
- 2,311
Wrote about a page and a half. Rate it boyos and girlos, let's see if I have the writing chops necessary to succeed in this brutish world.
Gary gifted the gaze with a stiff magnificence. Magnificent in mind only, as there was no audience to watch Gary. There hadn’t been an audience for Gary’s renditions in decades. There was a time when he had commanded stages and audiences abound. But, that was when he was a younger, better man. I was good, so, very, very good, he thought to himself.
He was definitely a magnificent man. Gary Salvador Bosvonovich was a man without equal in this world. At least, by his own estimation, this was true. When he thought back on his life, he figured he had done more in decades than most humans do with their meagre century-or-so lifespans. Gary considered himself not just as a man, but as a deity. He kept that last part to himself; he was already in a mental ward. It would do to go about calling himself a god. He feared they would give him more of those Abilify tablets.
Gary had traveled the world in luxury, fought in war—twice! He had also been an actor, not just any actor, but a broadway actor. Gary had rubbed shoulders with the greats, like Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando. A favorite story Gary would tell often was how he had inspired Brando on his famous “I could have been a contender” speech in On the Waterfront. “Of course Brando stole the role from me,” Gary would say to the young nurses who would pass by his padded room. “But, I was never raised as a spoiled brat. Not like the kids today. Oh no, I just gave Brando a few pointers. Not that the fucking cunt ever thanked me!” Usually the LVN’s passing the meds would roll their eyes and go about their day, thinking Gary was a mad loon.
None of that really bothered Gary, as it was really only the nursing staff that gave Gary any socialization. Gary did it once more; this time with more gusto. He smiled at the incognizant wall in front of him. It was there—in the center of the brick and mortar—where he imagined a make-shift mirror. As, he was not allowed to have a real mirror for obvious reasons.
In that mirror; he saw himself—not as he was, but as he wanted himself to be. Gary had lived a very long life, and was nearing deaths door. He was also very lonely. He was not suicidal, as he figured dying would come soon enough. Fear of the afterlife also kept him alive. Gary considered himself a sinner, though he grew up in a strict catholic household.
Anyhow; Gary glanced at the mirror once more, and saw himself as he should be—his rightful self. He saw a chiseled, muscular body, not his morbid saggy skin. Gary smiled and saw a set of perfectly white teeth, not the crooked, yellowing teeth that he really had. He touched his face and could almost feel the soft, glass skin and robust jaw-line. Gary smiled again, and muttered to himself, “oh, only if I were young again.”
He turned from the imaginary mirror, and paced around his padded room. Gary wondered why the medical people had sequestered him in a mental health care facility. At his age; they should have put him in an assisted living facility. I only crashed into that biker once, it’s not like I killed the man. In all honesty, Gary did not exactly know if the biker he had crashed his Volkswagen onto was alive or not. The paramedics had carted Gary away before he could really check on the biker. It had been days since the accident, maybe weeks? Gary lost track of time in the windowless facility.
“It’s time for your meds,” came a velvety voice from the doorway. If one could call it that, Gary did not have a door. Perhaps, it was more apt to call it an entryway. Gary refused to turn and face the velvety voice.
“Go away!” yelled Gary. Gary was besides himself with anger. Anger at his impending doom, anger at his failing body, anger at his wasted life, but mostly angered at that damned stupid voice that bothers himself everyday. “Why don’t you take those meds at shove it up your bumhole!” screamed Gary. “That ought to teach you to respect your elders!”
Gary gifted the gaze with a stiff magnificence. Magnificent in mind only, as there was no audience to watch Gary. There hadn’t been an audience for Gary’s renditions in decades. There was a time when he had commanded stages and audiences abound. But, that was when he was a younger, better man. I was good, so, very, very good, he thought to himself.
He was definitely a magnificent man. Gary Salvador Bosvonovich was a man without equal in this world. At least, by his own estimation, this was true. When he thought back on his life, he figured he had done more in decades than most humans do with their meagre century-or-so lifespans. Gary considered himself not just as a man, but as a deity. He kept that last part to himself; he was already in a mental ward. It would do to go about calling himself a god. He feared they would give him more of those Abilify tablets.
Gary had traveled the world in luxury, fought in war—twice! He had also been an actor, not just any actor, but a broadway actor. Gary had rubbed shoulders with the greats, like Marilyn Monroe and Marlon Brando. A favorite story Gary would tell often was how he had inspired Brando on his famous “I could have been a contender” speech in On the Waterfront. “Of course Brando stole the role from me,” Gary would say to the young nurses who would pass by his padded room. “But, I was never raised as a spoiled brat. Not like the kids today. Oh no, I just gave Brando a few pointers. Not that the fucking cunt ever thanked me!” Usually the LVN’s passing the meds would roll their eyes and go about their day, thinking Gary was a mad loon.
None of that really bothered Gary, as it was really only the nursing staff that gave Gary any socialization. Gary did it once more; this time with more gusto. He smiled at the incognizant wall in front of him. It was there—in the center of the brick and mortar—where he imagined a make-shift mirror. As, he was not allowed to have a real mirror for obvious reasons.
In that mirror; he saw himself—not as he was, but as he wanted himself to be. Gary had lived a very long life, and was nearing deaths door. He was also very lonely. He was not suicidal, as he figured dying would come soon enough. Fear of the afterlife also kept him alive. Gary considered himself a sinner, though he grew up in a strict catholic household.
Anyhow; Gary glanced at the mirror once more, and saw himself as he should be—his rightful self. He saw a chiseled, muscular body, not his morbid saggy skin. Gary smiled and saw a set of perfectly white teeth, not the crooked, yellowing teeth that he really had. He touched his face and could almost feel the soft, glass skin and robust jaw-line. Gary smiled again, and muttered to himself, “oh, only if I were young again.”
He turned from the imaginary mirror, and paced around his padded room. Gary wondered why the medical people had sequestered him in a mental health care facility. At his age; they should have put him in an assisted living facility. I only crashed into that biker once, it’s not like I killed the man. In all honesty, Gary did not exactly know if the biker he had crashed his Volkswagen onto was alive or not. The paramedics had carted Gary away before he could really check on the biker. It had been days since the accident, maybe weeks? Gary lost track of time in the windowless facility.
“It’s time for your meds,” came a velvety voice from the doorway. If one could call it that, Gary did not have a door. Perhaps, it was more apt to call it an entryway. Gary refused to turn and face the velvety voice.
“Go away!” yelled Gary. Gary was besides himself with anger. Anger at his impending doom, anger at his failing body, anger at his wasted life, but mostly angered at that damned stupid voice that bothers himself everyday. “Why don’t you take those meds at shove it up your bumhole!” screamed Gary. “That ought to teach you to respect your elders!”
