[ WP ] Write a story beginning with : `` Are you buying that or what ? ''

`` Are you buying that or what'', always the same skeptical tone, from the same nervous man, tapping a pen against the edge of his balding head. Of course I'm fucking buying it, I'd fucking marry it if he let me and he knows that and I know he knows. There is so much that surprises me about this routine, so much like the acrid vomit swelling up in my throat that I think once was n't there. I pop a squat in front of the beverages and pull my gum back in the reflection. Might be that the aforementioned acrid vomit has been eating at my back teeth, the ones that used to have their own distinct shapes and slopes I think, before they got eaten from the outside in, chewed down to one black gash. Buying it? Oh I'm buying it. This is n't a purchase as in item for currency, this is a sacrifice as in pain is beauty. This is a hundred cans picked up on the side of the road while blurred by motion teenagers shouted something something faggot. As an artist it truly does break my heart that they save what are no doubt their best lines for someone too stationary to hear them. I'd run to catch up, to track that sound, but well would n't you know my knees do n't snap around on cue like I feel they may have once. Buying it? I've been buying it since I could chase the fucking kids. Of course I'm buying it. 
 And the convenience store lights hum in that tone that you can feel more than hear. When you're like me it all just cuts right through you, names, faces, every thought and sound. And that's where it all goes I suppose, it as in buying it, buying it, oh yes I'm buying it. I am. The package of paper in my hand glitches and twitches like a tape on fast forward, but I feel slow. And its not the paper I know, its me, me against me, glitching and twitching despite myself. Buying it? I'd fucking marry it if he let me. 
 He looks down at the paper and up at me and he's thinking thoughts right at me, breathing in sync with the walls, wanting to kill me, to kill me he's going to kill me stab me stab me blood all over the floor and the ben & jerry's icecream thats what this is is that a new flavor, a new flavor with my blood pudding like some dish for the English when they come over and murder the natives like a genocide a holocaust some anne frank diary to humiliate me with for my enemies to hold high up up and just cut the skin, no no no no no I wo n't let that no. I'll keep it safe. It's all going down, I'm going to put it all down. And the walls are still, me sometimes I just, I get caught up. 
 The tapping pen stirs the mouth awake. `` Every day paper. Every day you come in here, you make a mess, you stand around, you talk to nobody and you buy a some paper? Are you the sick in the head'' he says and the way he says it, I finally get what the something something is before the faggot, I do n't even need to chase those words anymore. 
 `` I have a lot to keep straight'' I rasp and set my change on the counter. 
 
 

