Hallow

Rain drops fail to extinguish my cigarette nor my thoughts on suicide. I considered walking the long route to my destination. A party with no one in particular I'd like to see, or anybody who would want to see me. Which is a good thing on Halloween night. My cardboard and duct tape costume is not weather proof. I am a robot I guess. At least that is my story. Now I am a droopy depressed robot. Hopefully someone would find this amusing. Or at the least, take notice.

"Hello, who are you supposed to be?"

"A droopy depressed robot."

I clumsily stumble amongst the vampires, zombies, and slutty variations of those to get to the booze. What's a depressed robot without alcohol? I down two shots of some liquor. What kind? I don't care. Thankfully it burns. I down two cheap beers.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"I am a Transformer. Did you see the movie?"

"Yes, it sucked. Which one are you?"

"Voltron."

I see Michael Jackson and Kurt Cobain. I see pirates and indians. Kids. I am not a kid. I am supposed to be a man. Who is a cardboard robot.

"Who is that underneath?"

"It's me."

"Oh, it's you."

"Yep, it's me."

"How do I know you?"

"I don't know, maybe from another party."

"Maybe."

I felt like I was about to fall off the edge a few years back but that never happened. I don't know if this was the best outcome to my life. I had no back up plan for still being around. Who thinks about where they'll be in their thirties? I should ask someone. Maybe not. That's not my character to have substantive conversations. However, I am not myself tonight. I am an alcoholic robot.

"Who are you supposed to be?"

"I am HAL from 2010."

"Wasn't he just a talking computer?"

"Have you seen 2010?"

"No."

"Well then, I suggest you rent it. Let me ask you a question. Where are you seeing yourself in ten years?"

"What?"

"Forget it."

How many beers have I had? I lost count. When I get started I don't stop. I need to go all the way there. Where is there? I don't know and it doesn't matter because I never get there.