"Minus the 'g'", said Tim quietly to himself as he watched the corpse sway in the cold New Jersey breeze. "I was telling you to 'hang in there'. Not hang yourself." Where did this initially go wrong? He didn't even know if it would be morally acceptable to shake his head in dismay. But surely some kind of expression was requisite?
At age 22, a girl had told him he was a manipulator, and, well, shit just exploded after that. He'd tried to reason with her at first, foolishly.
I mean, in an Homerian sense, it was foolish. Like, if you actually found Homer, sitting down and writing something, the words would probably be an enactment of the 'foo' archetype. A side-quest. Not the one who will attack the Medusa. But has a harp.
"Wish I had chosen some better words," he reprimanded himself. Then there was this slow shifting of the eyes, and he was like, "Who you kiddin'?"
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