Spiked

"Hey, babe! Didya miss me?" Peter spoke with confidence, trying to hide his low self esteem. "Nah..." Replied the sweet mellowed out voice of a woman. "I know, that was a rhetorical question you fucking cunt.." The answer only completely annihilated his never existing hope. He spat out words as if they were numbers to a math equation, they had no meaning to him but since he knew how they worked and how to place them, he might as well use them. He sipped from his red coca-cola can and made a grimacing face, twisted and contorted for a few seconds then back to the emotionless, hopeless grin he always has. He sat there staring at the long, green pasture, swaying in the gusty wind, imagining the life of an ant. The woman would curiously watch him as he would move his lips as if whispering a secret to the wind. "What makes you tick Peter?" Peter did not hear her, he was occupied in his own world. "Peter. What makes you tick??" A bit louder she asked again. Peter stopped whispering but still did not hear. There was a loud engine flying above them. Once the engine was barely audible she asked again, a bit annoyed, "what the hell is going through your head all the time Peter?! Peter looked at her directly in the eyes, as if he still did not hear her, but she knows he did..