The words for 3WW LXXIV are punch, T-shirt and unravel. This week I’ve written a piece of flash fiction.
I don’t remember when he first appeared and nobody knew his real name: we all called him ‘Rambo’. He always took up the same position, leaning against the wall at one end of the recreation ground; its graffiti art as his backdrop. He always wore the same white T-shirt with the logo ‘I Pack a Punch’ emblazoned across his chest and a fist coming out at you like Lord Kitchener’s World War 1 recruiting poster ‘Your Country Needs You’. Even the local tough guys decided that they didn’t need Rambo. The Rec. had a bad reputation: it was where the kids from the local comprehensive stopped off for a smoke on the way home; a recruiting ground for drug pushers. All sorts of rumours circulated about Rambo. He was around six foot tall, with greasy black hair and a well tanned skin that showed off the muscle fibre when he flexed his biceps. We made jokes that he must either only have the one T-shirt or have a drawer full of identical ones. Even when the weather cooled and the leaves started to flutter down from the trees, he was there in same thin attire. Then one day, I was almost past, when I realised that something was missing. The next day it was the same – no Rambo. It was over a week before I realised that I had simply failed to notice him. He was wearing a jumper that had started to unravel at the bottom edge.
Here is a painting created by my personality by following a link from Tumblewords’ site.