Otter Creek What a wonderful world

Biting his own tongue was a growing habit. As in, in a more literal sense, he kept biting his tongue. Today more than most days. He still had a headache most days, and some were worse than others. Were they going to go away? He'd be stuck like this. Living the rest of his life a freak. At least, he had no other term to describe someone who felt like they had an anvil hitting the back of his eyeballs every few hours. The sun made it worse, but life went on, and here he was, fighting through the flatlands.

Hey, he'd got some muscle on himself now, right? That was worth something? Getting his head banged up by one of the locals? At least he had a permanent scar now. That scar was his memory of it, and his memory of it was the fact that his head wouldn't stop hurting.

Bonnie had complained to himself all day about his head, but this day, he was out looking for something 'fancy'. Whatever fancy was. Fancy, for Bonnie's terms, would be something that he could look at and be happy with. Something pretty on his eyes. Like a rock. Or something. Yes, that was how horrific of a state he was in right now.

The man would settle for a nice looking rock. He'd stare at one for about twenty seconds and decide it would be perhaps the most boring thing he'd ever ran his eyes across, but he would discover that when he got there. Not that he didn't know that now.

Or maybe he was lying to himself this day, and was hoping for more. Too bad, however, Bonnie did not know what more could mean.

"Sup." The sad man found his sad little rock. It wasn't even pretty, a rock couldn't be pretty anyways, but it had a little glam to it with its..dirt. And rock.

Yep. This was as exciting as he thought it would be.