Old school-project with inspiration taken straight from James Joyce's Ulysses, given my personal touch and left unfinished.
a true masterpiece.
(Stream of Consciousness)

dark, dirty, not porn.

no periods, no spaces.

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He had been on the run for quite some time now, he did not really know what he was running from, but he did not want to stop and see what it was for it could surely be something he did not want to know, something that could hurt him and he did not want to get hurt again, getting hurt was not in his plans, not this time, as last time had been quite bad, why did he take that job from Mr. Johnsson anyway? matter not now, he just had to keep running for a while so he could find a good place to hide and gather his breath and look over his options, for stopping and turning back surely was not in the options, not now, since he had lost his gun in all the panic when he had to jump out of the window from the hotelroom when they knocked on the door, too bad, it was a nice gun, 9 millimeter, automatic, quite the beauty, expensive too, he should get a new one, just like the old, maybe two, one in each hand would be nice, just like in the movies, so hiding close to a gunshop would be the best idea, and not too hard, this is the land of gunsmoke and maybe get some cigarettes along the way to relieve the stress, yes, a good idea, where was he now? another turn and he should be along the main street, safe, the neon lights giving the whole scene a nice strange glow, a familiar look, good, no gunshops at the main street though, did he even have enough money? yes, atleast for a single gun, some smokes and a shabby room, better get into some alley, just gotta make sure they are not following anymore, but still cannot slow down and look back, who knows what it could be, he did not even know what they looked like, was he even followed? no chances, no risks, just run, running was getting tiresome, but no way to fight them if they would catch up, no gun, no knife, turn, turn again, hope for the best, there was a pawnbroker, lovely, they always has guns, most surely not the nice 9 millimeter automatic, but something to fight with none the less, the old man behind the barred counter looked uninterested when he started to talk about a gun but seemed to become a bit friendlier when he started to wave around cash, nice fresh dollars, not even folded once and still the fresh smell of moneybags all over them, if they were stolen did not seem bother the pawnbroker and he did not care or remember if they actally were, stolen, why was he chased anyway? surely not because of the money, he looked at the guns the pawnbroker held up before him and he asked to see the biggest, longest revolver, something with a kick rather than a little peashooter, he needed that if he were to stop them, those, the ones chasing him, he asked for bullets, the old man just leered and did not say anything, he took a few more dollars from his pocket and waved them around like a fan in a gracious dance with the big silver revolver in his other hand, not caring any time he had to keep up to was slipping away, the weight of the gun was like a drug, he could already imagine the wonderful kick to make his wrist sore after ten-or-so shots, he heard himself saying loud, almost screaming, fine, fine, great, it's wonderful, i'm in love, hundred bucks, bring me bullets fast and i'll throw in some extra, the pawnbroker suddenly got speed to his old pants, some love the smell of gunsmoke, some love the green rustling of newly printed bills, easily to see here, there were not really many types of people, now to get out of here and find the closest hotel and the promised smokes to go fine with the other equipment of death he just bought, asking kindly for a fitting holster he waved around more dollars in his insane dance and soon his new gun would have a leather home to fly from everytime its master required lead aid against whatever was chaing him, money changed owner and a small box of bullets found its harbor deep in the large pocket of his grey coat, the stiff pawnbroker now smiling fully at his insane dance and just as he stopped to go out of the dirty small door the old man called out, have a nice night sir, a nice night indeed he thought, nice when I am rid of whatever is chasing me, and now where are those smokes, very few thoughts surged through his head, yet he could write a book if he just tried once he'd gotten out of this alley and back into the safety of the neon lights, but not now, gotta try the kick, the kick of death, but not onto anything with life, no, he loaded up one single bullet into the bin of the shining metal weapon and pointed it into the dark alley, knowing he would only hit trash and scare a few alleycats not possible harm anyone that would be missed, now to squeeze the trigger with right amount of strength, it felt nice to have a good gun in hand again, two clicks and then the shot rumbling like thunder down the alley hitting the wall and just as he thought sending a few cats scrambling away, he had the power again, satisifed in the moment he slipped the weapon back into the holster and met the neon lights with a smile seemingly much cooler than when he got into the dark alley, walking along the stream of people on the street, laughing inside how they all just ignored the gunshot a moment ago, where to? does not matter, over the street and into a tobacco shop, up with the fresh dollars again and making another old man happy, seemingly only those working at this hour, that is good, they appriciate good money and they are worth it, not that tobacco has haggleable prices but matter not the sweet cancersticks are all worth every single penny, the money was not even his, he laughed inside again and left the shop, happily letting the two packs of cigarettes join the box of bullets in his deep pocket, now what to do, oh, yes, hotel close anywhere? cheap, no it does not matter just close and no questions asked, well they do not do that at this hour anyway all they do is give you a room and tell you time for breakfast, lovely, finding a hotel he walked into the small lobby, ringing the bell to get someone to give him a room and there she was, sitting in the smokey lobby on an old sofa, he hardly recognized her but every second he watched her full red lips close around the burning cigarette he knew that she was the one he had met the night before, the night it all started, well, it surely cannot be her fault and they had such a good time wonder if she wanted to go up to his room and have another good time?