Giraffe
The rain keeps on falling. The night becomes darker. The beer has left a dull taste in his mouth. And now, his bed is cold. Soon it will be yet another day in his life. 30 something. Tall. Dark. Lean. Handsome. Italian. Bad boy. Good cop. Ordinary man. Dog owner. Winter is coming. He can smell it in the wind. Tonight, somehow, he can not sleep.
Must be the extra spicy buffalo wings and all those bags of BBQ chips. His life is too damn complicated, and these days he's been having this constant headache. Whenever he tries to make plans for the future, his mind becomes empty. He has not a clue what he's been doing. The whole world knows his girlfriend has feeling for somebody. For some reason she just can't settle down with him. And now, suddenly, he's not sure if he's really willing to pay the price. For a woman like Stephanie.
Yep, he's been having doubts. He's been asking himself all kinds of questions. It feels like something's trying to break out of his skin. He's not a boy anymore. He's a fully grown man in his prime. He wants to accomplish something and then be proud of it. He wants to be able to smile triumphantly around at all the staring people and feel cocky. But Stephanie, Stephanie, Stephanie. He has no fucking idea what to do with Stephanie. Sex has never been a problem for the two of them and they love the same kind of food. They even support the same hockey and baseball teams. But sometimes, when he turns his head to look at her, he will catch a glimpse of her uncertainty. It seems that she has absolutely no idea what tomorrow will bring, but she already hates it. And that frustrates the Hell out of him.
Marriage. Family. Kids. All of a sudden he feels this pressing urge to start breeding. Breeding? He winces at his own choice of wording. When the Zombie Apocalypse comes, does he want to fight side by side with Stephanie? Linda Hamilton* is, of course, a better choice. Twinkies. Shotguns. Poor poor Bill Murray**. Bob stirs in his sleep. He turns off the TV and starts laughing. Ah, the perks of being Detective Joe Morelli. Slowly his soft laughter dies. He, too, is reluctant to pay the price. And he's dying to drive that shining Porsche. The powerful, elegant German car. How he wants to be the man at the wheel. He leans his head back against the chewed up couch. No marriage. No babies. No relationship. "Smart man." He whispers.
Winter is here.
* Terminator 2.
** Zombieland.