Goodbye Blue Sky

After leaving the church, Pink didn't feel like going home. So he walked. Thirsty, and noticing that his dad had put a little money in his pocket on the way out, he went into the coffee shop. There he saw him.

Lucas Shaffer had been sitting at the table drinking a cup of joe. Pink order a coffee. Black of course. Pink without even asking sat down at Lucas' table. Lucas Shaffer looked up and asked, "The hell do you want." Pink scolded his mouth on the first sip. He said grimacing, "To catch up."

It had been at least a year since the two had talked. To break the silence, Lucas asked about the recent Occupy Protesters. Pink actually had something to say about this. So he told Lucas a story about back in his hay day, he remembered the band playing at protest. But unlike today's protesting, their's actually had meaning. His was against the war. Man the 70's had a much more different vibe. Kids hated adults, and the adults hated the kids even more. It was a great relationship that actually changed peoples lives. He told them this shit today had little influence, and that quite frankly, the youth of today have no fucking clue what they are protesting about.

Lucas, amazed that he got something out of Pink, agreed with him. Sadly, Lucas had to go. As much as he enjoyed talking to Pink in a serious conversation, he had to leave. Pink, not realizing that he had talked to the outside world in such a long time, shook Lucas' hand. Pink downed the little bit of coffee he had left. It was cold. Just like his life.

Leaving the coffee shop, he still didn't want to go home. He walked to the park. The Occupy Protesters were standing there. Lucas said they were getting rowdy when he heard them this morning. Pink counted 11 people just sitting around. Oddly enough he counted 12 tents. This is how he really knew that these protesters had no platform. Pink walked up to a protester. He could have some fun out of this. This would be the first time in awhile that he would have fun. They were lightly chanting, "Cut my Jobs, I'll cut you." Pink walked up to the one who he assumed was the leader.

The leader, an older fellow who probably was anti-Vietnam recognized Pink. He was glad to see another member joining the fight against the man. Pink however told him this was the most incompetent protest ever. The two jousted over topics that actually had little effect. The leader was ready to move on so in one of his final statemetns he asked, "You fought against the war didn't you? Well we are fighting against a war ourselves. they take our jobs, and we let them know about it. Did-did-did-did-you ever wonder why we had to run for shelter when the promise of a brave new world unfurled beneath a clear blue sky?"

Pink turned around and walked. He had heard the lyrics to his son in such a long time. He whispered to himself, "Goodbye Blue Sky?" The leader of the protesters knew he got into his skin.

Welcome to the Machine

Pink woke up from a rough night's sleep to a phone call. He scattered around the room, trying to shut the damn phone up. He answered it with a echoing "hello".

"We need to talk"

He threw the phone against the wall. While getting dressed, he tried to remember this oh so familiar voice. The last time he could think of was before Pink moved off to London with two other band members to start a career. He remembered the what the old man said before he left. "You're gonna go far." What in the hell could he want to talk about now.

Leaving out of the apartment around 7a.m. he noticed a crowd of people huddled outside the 24 hour coffee shop. He was really beginning to lose faith in humanity. He assumed that they didn't know what to do. But then again, we know the saying about assumptions. He decided not to interact.

Looking forward now, there was a broken-down bus. Pink didn't think to much of it. He figured that it would be fixed, especially since there was no traffic at this time any way.

Pink walked off, humming a tune he hadn't played since he recorded it 20 years ago. He approached his destination with a 10 minute walk. It was the orphanage where he went to school. The church connected to it was where he thought the bastard would be. He entered. No one was there.

The church itself hadn't changed at all since Pink left the school. The wood floor made as much noise as possible, and the stained glass windows had yet to be cleaned. Being dark, the only visible opening was the door to the offices. That is where Pink strolled off to.

He came up to a door where he Pink could see a light. This was it. On the outside, it read Father Floyd. Pink Knocked.

Father Floyd didn't bother getting up, just saying "Come in here dear boy".

Pink opened the door slowly, to a sight most wouldn't expect. Pink, whose anger bulged out of his mouth, asked, "What in the hell do you want ...dad?"

Father Floyd offered him a cigar. Pink took it without thinking. "I told you you were gonna go far." Father Floyd turned around and turned up the radio. Another brick in the wall, pt 2 was playing on WTF radio. "Did you write this song about me? Because I feel like it is about my ways of strict education are mentioned. I still don't see how you could have any pudding without eating your meat"

"Fuck you dad. I hate this song anyway. I hate all of my music."

"Well the public doesn't. Your songs have survived the test of time. You have revolutionized music today."

"I don't give a shit. The public doesn't understand that we did it for passion. They only think we did it for the money."

The conversation continued for another hour. It was around 9, and Father Floyd had to get ready for another day of teaching.

Pink left more pissed off than ever. Stepping out of the church door, he saw that cars were bumper to bumper. Looking off in the distance, the bus was still broken, and he saw the driver and a stranger in an argument. He thought people had to much time on their hands. He lit up another cigarette as he walked back to the apartment.

The Happiest Days of Our Lives

Pink suddenly woke up around one-ish to another dream

He remembered that damn school. His mom didn't have much money, so he went to the school through Hyde's Orphanage. The one teacher that criticized him was Father F------. Pink tried to remember the name. He wasn't the only teacher that disliked Pink for his creativity.

Pink thought to himself why teachers hated their students so much. He always believed that the teachers themselves had to get torn apart by their better halves at home each day and night. They always wanted the lesser being, aka the students, to feel their pain.

By now Pink felt that certain anger he felt when the teachers would take away his poetry. The one poem that was read aloud to the whole class was the only one he could think of. It is the only one where he could sing to. Pink softly sang, " It's a hit, don't give me that do goody good bullshit." Pink wanted to get out of the house.

Leaving suite 1965 of the Castle Apartments on the 12th floor, Pink felt like a actual human being. This was the first time he had gone out since he last had to buy bread. That reminded him, he was out of bread and cigarettes.

Leaving the apartment, he saw the same bum that has been around this town forever. Pink was fond of him. This was a man that had the same creativity Pink had. The bum was an enthusiast of poems. Pinks favorite line came from some old play that Father F----- pounded into his teenage mind. Thanks to alcohol and repressive memory, he could only call it useless shit. That line represented his musical expression."Riddles-- all you can say are riddles, murk and darkness." That was Pink's music.Only he understood the truth behind the lyrics, and those who heard him play, were blind to his pain. He turned away to find a store.

"Mother will they try to break my balls?" Pink couldn't stop thinking about his mother. His teenage years were fairly normal. He was more youthful then rather than his younger age. He actually had a girlfriend, and was sociable. But this was only a phase, one of Pink's bad days. His mother brought him back to that individualism. She was supportive of his musical aspirations. But she didn't want to lose another man. Every time Pink was feeling extra down, she comforted him into a world of just them two. Mother was the wall. Moma kept baby cozy and warm. Pink cursed her in his thoughts.

On the way back from the store the bum had stopped reciting play lines. Now he was listening to music... loudly. Pink heard only distorted sounds so he went closer. As soon as he heard the simplicity, he knew it was Bob Dylan, but he couldn't make out the song. Pink really f****** hated Bob Dylan.

He receded back to room 1965, probably for another week or so, or however long he can stand it. This time gave him more time to think about the past. Pink lit a cigarette and began playing his guitar.

In the Flesh

The day started with a hit of the cigarette. The whole apartment smelled like a cigarette. The full moon told him it was early. Pink slowly arose to the morning. He tripped over his favorite axe, causing more noise than wanted. He looked out the window, to see the sleeping town that he grew up in motionless. It was desolate. The town was dry, Pink couldn't remember the last time it rained. The twelfth floor let him view the city as he knew, as a child. But he didn't want to think about his childhood, but it was the only explanation to his life today. The cigarette had long since dimmed, so he lit up another.

A hour passed and Pink had only moved to the only chair in his empty suite. He stared at the broken television screen. The anger got the best of him that day. The television had his other "favorite" axe in it. The sun began to rise. He thought of his childhood again. He thought of his mother.

Another hour passed before he got up from his chair to grab his guitar. He moved back to the chair and did what he did best. Music was his medium for expression. He didn't want anyone to hear it. He was the only person who could understand it. Pinks eyes were heavy, as he played a tune he had grown to know so well. As he entered the rift, he leaned back and slept. Pink dreamed of his childhood. Pink thought of his mother.

Momma and daddy loved their baby. The lullabies they sang enlightened the young musician. They learned that pink only responded to rhyme and rhythm. That was until the war. Pink's father was drafted. He promised to come back. His mother received the news a month later that he was killed by a plane crash. The Nazis got him. Pink's mother only got a letter and a uniform. She knew that in order to not lose another man in her life, she would have to protect Pink.

Four years had passed before Pink questioned why he had no father. He did this because the kids on the playground all had a adult male figure with them. He had himself. Pink walked up to his mother on a cozy afternoon and simply asked the question that she feared was coming. "Mommy, why do I not have a father?" She lied to him. She said he was a no-good man that drank himself out of this house. She did this to protect him. Pink wept.

It wasn't until Pink was eight before he found the uniform. He put it on.It said private F--------.The rest of the name tag was torn off.The sleeves dragged against the hardwood of the flat as he found it amusing to play in . His mother walked in to all the noise. She knew that she had to tell him.

"Son, please sit down, and take this uniform off", she asked timidly

Pink did so politely and sat next to her on the bed. She didn't know where to begin. As she opened her mouth, Pink interrupted her.

"Mommy, what did daddy look like?"

She went for the only family album that had the remaining pictures of him. She opened it up for her son.

"You're father was a brave man. He was strong and valiant, and patriotic. He was a great man"

"So where is he mommy? Is he still drinking and gambling?"

She cried, but answered, "No son, he died. He died for this country. He died to stop a regime unlike any other." She thought he died for a lost cause. She continued, "These are the only pictures we have left. That uniform you had on was his. They gave it to me as a recognition for his participation for his country in the war. That is all we have left."

She wept as Pink rose up and walked out the room, emotionless. That is all he dreamed of now was the image of a plane incinerating his father in a crash.

Pink woke up to from the dream. He knew he just opened up what he had so successfully walled off before. His childhood. Pink slowly got out of the chair, laying his guitar on the ground. As he ate the last few slices of bread in the suite, he noticed that quite a bit of time had passed since he had fallen asleep. He thought of his dreams. Pink walked into his room, opened the closet, and pulled out the uniform. He sat at the foot of his bed and stared the uniform. He cursed his mother, denounced the Nazis and beat himself up for showing emotion. The only way to stop was to do it the way he did before. He put it off and wept for the remainder of the day. Isolation was his only friend.