Sunday morning mood wore on me like a life time of rights made wrong, and done recently. I cruised through a local burger joint and grabbed a greasy egg sandwich and sat in front of the 7/11 waiting for 11 am. I needed a beer, cigarettes and salvation. How could everything have gone bad so quick?

Two blonds walked past my car and into the store (sounds like the beginning of a bad joke now that I try to tell you about it). Their swimsuits left very little to the imagination, but my mind worked overtime yearning to fill the gaps. The small hungover beach town forced the blonds to don their dark sunglasses in an attempt to cover the mistakes of last night. They didn't know, but I could tell my head matched their rhythm.

Shoving the last bit of biscuit in my mouth, I leaned over and dug through the trash on the floor of the car. I was pretty sure a bottle of aspirin or a loose capsule would be down there. I gave up quickly and laid my head on the steering wheel.

Her face flashed in my head and I cringed. By the time I left her, she was no longer the girl I had picked up in a bar 8 months ago. A carcass of herself laid on the hotel room floor. She rolled away from the light that glared accusingly through the open door. I looked at her one last time before I left, then I was gone.

She had become a skeleton in an Ella costume. Her rich dark skin had faded and lost its luster. She was rotting away as we'd walk down the street. Decaying slowly over breakfast.

The smell of death stuck on my teeth when we'd kiss. And I couldn't hold her hand anymore, for I feared a brittle finger would break and be left behind when she pulled away.

My thoughts faded as I watched the clock turn 11. I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror. Worn. 3 day stubble and I hadn't showered in days. Blessed by genetics, I looked more like Brad than a bum. And giving myself the nod, I climbed out of the car.

The cheap bell jingled as I walked through the glass door. Heh... Blondes were mulling over trashy magazines and I felt their shaded eyes follow me. The guy behind the counter had glassy eyes that had seen too much booze and too little sleep. I mentally tipped my hat at him.

"I got 'cha"

I grabbed a six pack of cheap beer and headed back to the counter. The girls watched me pay with a crumpled $20. Eyes still on me, I paused with my hand on the exit.

"Shouldn't you be in church?" I asked the blondes. They looked at each other and then back at me. Busted and broken at 11 am with a hangover on a Sunday in a shitty little beach town, I was about the best they were gonna do and they knew it. I looked down at the beer in my hand.

"Join me, if you like." I left the store with two blondes following close behind.

Bitter as I was about Ella, I was still a man and I still had needs. Salvation wasn't going to find me this Sunday.