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A Taste............

He would rest.   

           He was tired and thus he had left the driving bass of the dance party behind him.  Walking home, he was enjoying the feel of the cool early morning breeze over his skin resulting in the evaporation of his sweat.  He had become bored with the collection of bodies that had writhed and undulated back on the dance floor and had decided to go home to bed.  He had even forgone the obvious interest of a particularly attractive Greek man whom he knew would have proven a congenial diversion.  But he was tired.  The drugs, as they always did, had worn off far too soon and his metabolism was once again demanding rest.  So he had simply left, with not one look back at the revelry, or the handsome Greek.
            Now, as he slowly walked home, he wondered if it was too late to go back and to take the Hellenic prize up on his blatant offer.  With a small chuckle, he decided that sleep was the activity best suited to his bed this crisp morning.  Glancing at his watch, he noted it was far too close to five am for his liking.  As he turned onto a side street, he noted with some annoyance a group of young men who were lounging beside a heavily modified car, all drinking and smoking. 
            He smiled a telling little smirk of amusement.  In his short vinyl shorts, white vinyl boots and matching vest stretched over his muscular, olive-toned, heavily tattooed build, he must have appeared quite the sight to them.  And, true to form, it did not take long for the taunts to begin.  He simply ignored them.  After all, he had been taunted by the very best and brightest.  Five, insignificant, classless pieces of rough trade certainly were not going to get the better of him.  So he simply walked on.
            He was little more than half way down the street when the taunts ceased.  He was pretty confident of what was going to transpire, and so it came as no surprise when he heard car doors opening and closing and an engine roaring to life.  With a small grunt of annoyance, he turned and walked into the middle of the road with his hands on his hips, staring at the car bearing down on him.  He really hated being kept from his bed when he was tired.  With a careful look to make sure no one else was present to witness or observe, he set himself and waited. Absently, the corded muscles of his arms twitched and rippled in anticipation.
            He saw their maniacal grins and could almost imagine the adolescent goading that was going on in the car.  Boys could be so predictable.  He felt a moment of pity for the owner of the car.  He liked hotted up cars.  Actually, he liked the guys that usually accompanied the hotted up cars more, but he particularly appreciated a fine piece of automotive handiwork.  Unfortunately, he also appreciated being left alone.
            The car was less than four meters away when he raised both fists over his head and then brought them down on the front of the bonnet.  Such was the force of his strike that the front of the car attempted a serious dive into the roadway beneath it.  Inertia being what it is, however, the back end wanted to keep going, and thus it caused the car to flip up and over his head to land noisily on the road behind him, bursting all four tyres as it did. 
            He walked up to one of the windows and perfunctorily put his fist through it, shattering the glass from the door.  With his hands on his hips and a look of derision on his youthful face, he leaned in close to the group of shocked and bruised but otherwise unhurt young men,.
            “Don’t you boys ever grow up?”  He said before he turned and strode off.  Yes, if there was any justice in the world, it would lead him to bed and to the sleep he so desired.

Taste over....

The above excerpt is from a work written by Damien Timms and is protected by International Copyright lodged in Australia and the USA and may not be reproduced in part or whole without the written permission of the author.
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