Jackson Millard Short Story
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
Jackson Millard by Del Rossi. Mhm. That morning Jackson Millard woke like he had so many other mornings to find himself still here, still in that same old apartment and the world, just the same as it was the night before, sadly, the whiskey and gin and vodka he had drank before bed along with a pack of cigarettes. He smoked, had not done much to change his current situation other than provide him with a strong headache and dry mouth that tasted of old tobacco and sour stale booze. He slid out of bed and into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee and turned on the bath as the beans soaked in the water. He began to think about nothing in particular. He thought about what he was thinking, tried to think of something more interesting, but found the process of war and instead started thinking about when he would have his next drink. He would feel good then and different and more like himself. Time would pass by quicker and he could feel hope again, pouring a cup of coffee and getting into the bath. He thought about jumping off his balcony, a common fantasy for Jackson, but he always came back to the messiness of it all. It truly is messy to live and messy to die. There are no two ways about it. Life really is a selfish brat, he said to himself as he tried to get deeper under the water and into its warmth. After he had finished his bath and coffee, he headed into work late, but unaffected by stress or anxiety, tuning out his boss and coworkers with hollow nods and acknowledgements mixed with an empty have a nice day. All in an effort to just get back home to his couch, a glass of whiskey and a pen and paper. Looking at the ceiling of his cubicle, he began to think about something that bored him, mm hmm.