|
Monday. 09/26/05. 11:58:24 PM
A sort of pop-ish song plays in the background, as the warmth of
the alcohol slushing in Ryo's stomach catches up to him. The bar
was empty now as the football game ended and people started
filing themselves out through the exit. The beer still tasted a
bit too bitter, too sweet, like burned bread or salty cake, or
something similar to it.
Brett Day was a short, hairy guy, wearing Hawaiian shirts and
denim shorts, sitting and crouching as if he was a bear in
hibernation, peering out of his deep sleep just long enough to
take a sip of beer.
Ryo had taken Brett to a bar in the hopes of catching things
that he wouldn't say when he was "on the record", but it was
Monday and the crowd of football fans were crowding the bar,
eating and drinking as if it was their last meal. The bar had
been a constant boom of screams and shouts, background sound
matching to the actions on the TV screen.
It wasn't until now that it quieted down, and everything seemed
to be better with the world.
"I still can't believe he's dead." Brett said. "I mean, I knew
the kid would eventually self-destroy himself, but I didn't know
it would be so soon."
Brett had known Eiji for almost five years now, met him when
Eiji was tinkering around trying to start a manga club at the
university they were in, Ohio State. Although that was his
passion at the time, Eiji had to resign as the club's president
due to the fact that his job intervened with his schedule, and
he would never be able to make the weekly schedule well.
"So he liked drawing, I assume?" Ryo asked between sips of beer.
"He did, although I always told him to just stop and concentrate
on drawing instead." Brett chuckled at this. "He wasn't any good
at drawing, no matter how hard he tried. I kept telling him to
go take art classes, but he would just keep saying no. He wanted
to keep his style, even though it was crap." Brett smiled. "The
kid was just stubborn like that."
"Was he any good writing?"
"He was," Brett replied. "He would post his stuff online and
there would be people IMing him just because they were fans of
it." Brett paused as he finished up whatever was left in his
mug. "Even his friends would ask him to rewrite their stories
for them, because the kid could just pop up with an idea just
like that!" Brett snapped his finger in rhythm with the word
'that'.
"He always said that people wouldn't appreciate anything till
the artist or writer was dead," Brett continued sadly. "I wonder
how true it will be in his case."
The CD in the music player changed, and the next song came on,
ignoring the end of what came before it. |
