Chill walks through town thinking what a strange place I've come to. His thoughts of todays activities are disrupted by some cantankerous old fart flying by on a motorbike. The smell of catfish drifts through the air and he resumes his contemplations as the din of the bike fades in the distance.
This is indeed a strange town, paranoia runs deep, imagined slights are quibbled back and forth, and everyone is in a big hurry to lynch their neighbor. Well it could be worse they could be looking to lynch me, he thinks as he takes a swig from his flask and puts it back in his pocket The amber liquid brings a pleasant heat to his belly and a slight buzz to his head.
He pauses to watch some fool throwing a basketball in the schoolyard as he berates himself for his being too smart. He blames the ball for not understanding his superior grasp of fyzsicks. He then apologizes to the ball and starts to ramble again. He's not very coherent so Chill wanders on.
He wonders what he has gotten himself into and what tomorrow will bring. He takes another swig and decides to worry about it tomorrow.