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Richie Cunning

The world you live in is not what you think it is. There is another world hidden between the cracks of that which you know. In this world, there is a man that you will not find in any history books or credit reports. He cannot be seen with the human eye at "the mall" or "the club". He is known only as Richie Cunning and there are very few people that even know of his existence. Countless believers have reported first-hand sightings, claiming to have seen him drinking from a flask on a bus station bench in the middle of the night or even fast asleep on a bus station bench in the middle of t ...read more

The world you live in is not what you think it is. There is another world hidden between the cracks of that which you know. In this world, there is a man that you will not find in any history books or credit reports. He cannot be seen with the human eye at "the mall" or "the club". He is known only as Richie Cunning and there are very few people that even know of his existence. Countless believers have reported first-hand sightings, claiming to have seen him drinking from a flask on a bus station bench in the middle of the night or even fast asleep on a bus station bench in the middle of the night. However, gentlemen and scholars both maintain that he is nothing more than a myth. A drunken ghost in the collective subconscious of modern society. Many have tried to understand him, but there is only one way to truly understand that which is Richie Cunning. You must leave your world behind and step into his realm....a place thought to exist only in fairy tales and ugly areas of downtown San Francisco. Your journey begins now. Here there are many people just like you, except that they don't wear those fashionable little pants you have on or those "hot" sneakers that you picked up on sale at an urban boutique. In your pockets are nothing but a pint of E & J and an expired bus pass. The cracked pavement on which you stand is littered with hand-rolled cigarette butts, losing lottery scratchers, and murky puddles of city juice that faintly reflect the half-illuminated neon lights of forgotten bars and liquor stores that you are not welcome in. The dark sky above you is blanketed in an ominous fog so suffocatingly thick that God himself knows not what happens here. Hollow gusts of wind echo through the streets with a voice so human that they seem to whisper in your ear, "give me your shoes....or I will open you up with this piece of broken glass". The cold night air is ripe with the aromatically intoxicating scent of long-neglected plumbing problems, bus exhaust, and the most luxurious of transvestite perfume. What is this place? You ask. How did I get here and why should I care who this guy is or where he comes from? It's a mystery. And that's why so is Richie Cunning. « hide


Night Train
2010

4
1 Votes

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