To read about all of Nate’s Adventures Savannah, go to natethewriter.r8.org
Needless to say, we left Pete in the park that night.
The sun came up and I imagine someone found him all bruised and bloodied. I could only imagine their reaction when they nearly stepped on this piece of bourgeois scum.
Nineteen years old, and convinced he was better than three-fourths of the people out there. He actually believed that junk, like it had been force fed to him as a child in rote.
Dave, Keith, and I hit the road, not knowing what would come next after our early morning spent on the beach. We’d start heading up to Atlanta to crash with some friends of ours.
Maybe we’d stop off in Chattanooga for a couple of nights. We may be bumming around, but I’d rather be in the gutter than in the suburbs.
