It's late night in NYC ; in the firehouse, too...

darkness in a heart, a young hurt heart.


If only he handn't said all those terrible things...




In the middle of a quite night : alone in his bedroom,

wrapped by everything that had made his own world :

cartoon heros magz and posters ; children toys ;

sci-fi movies ; a few ghostbusting equipment ; arcane

books, between other items.  He was sat down in the top

of the bed ; a pale light of a little night lamp,

iluminating his worry child face, holding a big toy figure

of his childhood hero, Dopey Dog, Raymond Standz was thinking

in that damn afternoon's success...


"I didn't want to say that, truly I didn't...but I was

angry, very angry. I don't know why.  Because is not for

you. Believe me.  It's was much pressure of them.

I didn't should hear their comments. I did should be more

mature, more myself, 'cause...ya'know? You're simphatize me

very much ; you're very pretty nice, lucky guy.


You have everything that anybody can wish in the life.

I always thought it."


Taking a deep breath, continuing with his owns...


"I'm admire your self-assurance ; the way in which you solve

any kind of trouble, but most difficult that could be ;

in how you see the Life : with an innocent, joy eyes...

eyes of love ; not for only one ; for the entire world...

althought nobody can understand it.  They're think that

you aren't more than a charmed no-brain man, who's only

interested in *to* conquer anyone that crossed your way,

having a lot of dates in the most short time, just for

maintain your reputation : a selfish without feelings...

I know that it's not true."


A silent moment of reflection, following this way...


"You're much more than it. You're fighting for put down

the mask that people were covered your face ; the most

cool 'powerfull-lover' in the city...'cause in your deep,

you're another man, very different from which they're

insisted on seeing.  You are a capable, spirited, sensible

man : a professional in the job, and something wild in

your personal life...with deep secrets and dreams...and a

great, great love, that's already difficult to hide.

I never saw that somebody could love another, like you ;

delivering in body and soul *to* the object of your affection,

and not an occasional trip. And the same time, being amazing

devoted to that feeling. 

You give the life for your owns, and I'm admired, and glad

for it...


I like your shinny smile ; I enjoy your companion, your jokes ;

your smartness.  You really like me, maybe more than Egon ;

more than anybody.  You, charming, gorgeous, pretty emerald

eyes, 'glamour' boy, I..."


A bitter *and* painful confession appeared in those trembly




"I love you, Peter Venkman."


A pair of tears were fallen down his golden eyes...



Life is not fear,

life is a bad joke, but

nobody can do anything

for to avoid the pain.

Life is a bitch.



And it was raining again...




The end.


(c) 2002.





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