The Incredible Mr. Snips By *(Matthew Bowers)*~93

I was as tired as the day felt long,

and right now that seemed like a god damned eternity. There were plenty of goings on throughout the house, but nothing that struck my curiosity. 

A new tenant moved in across the way. In a small tank with water, lettuce, and a fairly good size rock, considering the amount of space provided. 

The mister called it Leon, which I found a little odd for a red-eared slider. The name seemed pretty "street" for something that'll never leave the comforts of it's ten gallon tank. 

Yeah, this day dragged long, otherwise uneventful save the usual rapping at the window when Larry and Gus the local  Columbian livias showed up casing the joint for some grub, usually week old bread scraps and old stale hamburger buns. 

The monotony can drive one mad. If I didn't know how to jimmy open the cabinets of the mister's liquor cabinets years ago, I'm sure I'd be a goner by now. There ain't nothing like a nightcap or three to break up the day's insanity, a little gin and vermouth to take the edge off always seemed to do me right…. 

Well, once again the morning comes along like rolling thunder. Breaking open the sky with bellowing claps like some proverbial ten pin strike down aisle four. The echos igniting dull throbbing pain behind my eye sockets and lower frontal cortex. I guess I must've tied one on tighter than I thought. 

The whole place wreaks and seems like it's falling apart, and I ain't seen the mister in about three or four feedings.

Tipsificator Spelunking. Yeah, he's probably three sheets to his own wind out looking for tail or clever anecdotes to include into his own daily writings, trying to write that Moby Dick of personal projects that never seems to materialize. First things first, he got to shake them DTs.

Well, the sun's gone down on another day, punched it's timecard for it's time spent shining above this dirty city. The hustle and bustle of the streets below seems to have mellowed down to a dull roar, at least for the moment. 

Late Night chit chat and canned laughter fill the void of commercials aimed to get folks to purchase shit they know they don't ever need. 

I myself have reached the end of another cycle of twenty-four hour doldrums. Time to cash in the chips, have one more for the road, even though we all know I ain't got nowhere to be. 

Leon seems quite content in his little glass abode. Can't knock him for not having much going on upstairs. There's a certain kinda freedom, living in the moment, not bein' aware of self or death. Things get rough for Leon, he just pulls himself in all tight. Retreat into his self made asylum. I guess there's perks for being thick as a stump, not having any aspirations. Ignorance is bliss in the hollow moments of the dog end of the days gone by. 

   Born in Massachusetts, received the "Class Artist"  title for the graduating year of highschool, as well as assisting in the writing and production of the school poetry book.

    Later moved to Boston then Salem MA. becoming a novice practitioner of pagan and ritualistic arts, spending time studying Chaos MagicK before moving to Hollywood CA. to write and perform music. 

    In 2020 starting up The Calling which incorporates a YouTube channel, podcast, group, Facebook pages, as well as a website and store. Something Witchy This Way Comes was released in 2021, with several more projects in the works including a first Novel and Young Adult adventure.