There's Blood On The Moon Tonight - Plot & Excerpts
Huggins Friday, October 8th, 2,004 Rusty Huggins squinted sleepily at the sunlight filtering through his bedroom window. Dust motes danced in the beams of light falling upon his bed. “Fuck a duck,” he said, slapping off the alarm clock, buzzing rudely beside his ear. He’d hit the snooze bar one too many times and now he was running late again. He collected his glasses from atop a tottering pile of books on his nightstand and slipped them on, pulling the thick rubber strap behind his head. The glasses had a tendency to slip down his small nose; the rubber strap kept them firmly in place otherwise. The lenses were Coke bottle thick, the frames heavy and black. Butt ugly was what they were. Rusty couldn’t have cared less. Over the years his Buddy Holly glasses had become a mask from which he could hide behind. A disguise to hide away his shame. Not that Rusty had given it that much thought, mind you.
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