Storytime... (KISS)

...the twisted little way I have of writing...

Thursday, June 22, 2006

Lady in the water

There was a look in her eyes as I Passed her by. She was the last thing I saw. Now I wonder. School that day was like any other day. I left early... too late to eat breakfast, too early to see the sun yet. And I jumped on my bike and headed down the road. It's a fifteen minute ride to the school and another five minute walk to my classroom. I only had thirteen minutes 'til school began. I ate my toast as I dodged Ol' Whitner's dogs and I slid under the fence to cut through Stancy's Orchard. That usually saves me five minutes. I shoulda gone around the old thicket of trees. There's a pond down there that ya never can know how high it is or how solid the ground will be but I needed to save two more minutes and it takes at least three to go around. So I charged don the knoll and pedaled real fast to gain more speed. By gosh I was gonna make it through no matter how bad the ground was down there. I knew how to handle my bike. I was good at it been handling since I was three... The mud... The Muck... I didn't get hung up... nothin’ but a branch that reddened my shin. I dodged every rock and tree. And was almost through. The big black tree, at least twenty stories tall, meant I was just about at the road again, I knew it real well. It was ugly and covered in dark green and brown moss. I liked it a lot. It was about three feet off from where the water's edge usually is and was today. I dodged to the left where the ground is clearer and as I passed the tree I looked over at the water. Frogs and fish and a couple of plants are usually what I see, I like ‘em that’s why I look. But this time I saw a lady in blue and it looked like she was bathing, combing her hair or something. She was all shimmery and I stared. I hit a bump cuz I wasn't watchin' and it threw me off a bit. I pedaled to regain control and came up over the mound into the road. I looked back at her again but she was gone... That's when the truck hit me.
They told me I may never see again. But the Lady in the water, I swear I saw her, I still see her and that look in her eyes, aqua blue eyes with a touch of gold to her. She glowed she was so pretty. She was there and that's all I remember.

political thoughts from looking at a different angle... just trying to understand

I offer my apologies to old acquaintances and new friends alike. Reverse it and same goes. With this pistol on my forehead I see things more clearly. Life sucks and it's worse for me if I have to be conscious of it... ever. Sure a person could crawl back to the barbiturates again. But that would land a person in jail again. That means having to sober up and face reality again... till the ol' "man" deems you're ready for the real world again. "Not 'til you're sixteen bub. No more driving and certainly no car..." Dad used to say. Now I have a permanent "Dad" Way to be an adult... Way to be responsible. I think they instituted government to make up for lousy parenting. "You can't raise 'em to function right in this society then we'll have to take 'em outta this society..." And so on the speech goes. But seriously; what other option does a person, who hates the way things are, have??? I could crawl into the bottle. It saps money from the weak and rich and removes dignity from the strong, pure and otherwise too poor to afford it. We all need to escape life's reality... So how am I supposed to? Can't watch sports to forget the ways of the world... It's a corrupt little microcosm all in it's own. Can't take to drugs, alcohol or anything else of the expensive variety. Can't make a living following my dream, there are already more writers out there than there are readers. So what can I do? What will I do? I could sit here in a cell and rot flailing the whole way looking for a job and scraping for a meal. I could prove myself a degenerate and show how poorly my parent had raised me and land my ass in jail... at least it's three meals a day and free rent... ... And good friends... at least strong bonds.
I could go into the military and hope to catch a stray bullet... or a stray exploding civilian cuz apparently that's what we're fighting over there.
Which come to mention it... Ever wonder why they are blowing themselves up trying to get rid of "us"??? I do... and I think I might have it.
Little Abra... cute as a button, is raised by his family, they all work together and they work their backs off trying to provide for one another. Their "leaders" run a tight ship in order to keep the people hopeful yet in poor enough condition to want to better their lot. Abra learns the importance of teamwork, a strong faith in something... anything, and a heavy dependence upon stability because his fragile, unprotected and otherwise resilient self and spirit depend on it. That is the way of the world that he knows, and what's best he learns a lesson these imbecile Americans never seem to grasp... Discipline and leadership – no no… Real Leadership. The kind that comes from having to choose between your newborn child or the wife who mothered him and deciding to let one die to save the one who will be more beneficial to the family. Abra grows up to be a hard working individual, gets up at the crack of dawn without any coffee and is more awake from that moment until night than many of us are all day. He sees clearly and has no hazy headache. He is not dependent upon anything chemical and he gets his job done concisely accurately and happily. Abra collects his pay and is grateful to have anything at all. He can barely feed himself let alone the whole family but is so grateful to whatever power that be that helped him get food that he even gives away a portion of it in honour of that power that be. Abra is a good, honest and keen human being with a big heart and a loving family. He does not want things to change because with change he has realized comes carelessness, corruption and what he calls sin. This sin is actually more of the corruption; sins are behaviors that lead to society having habits en masse that lead to cruelty and the utter deterioration of progression and stability. Truth, honour, discipline, respect. Without these a society will choke itself and die. ...
The Human Parasite.
We laugh to pass the time. We close our eyes to ignore. We drown our sorrows. Because being aware of the truth in the condition we're in hurts us and "US" as a nation are so sensitive... we aren't used to getting hurt, we don't know real hardships, we kick our dogs for not begging correctly.
I'm guilty too, I almost expect the perks of living in a rich society going bankrupt. Meanwhile I Can't help but wonder... how long before Noah’s flood, (or whatever religion you belong to: it’s comparable story) when will we be tested, because as humans it is inevitable that we will test ourselves, and we're bound to fail... Soon we'll be so dependent upon Abra and our robot computer that we won't be able to tie our shoes correctly.
And who shall inherit the earth?
I hope it's cockroaches... they are better people than we… at least they are clean!

Tuesday, June 06, 2006

I met god's Will...

The basic drive to nurture and the primal need to conquor. Do we love those we love because we can overpower them? Do we hurt them because we need their pain? Are we a race that thrives and survives on the absolute suffering of our fellow man. Or are we the few fuck ups who've out-bred the rest. So consumed with reliability, memory and success beyond the rest, so consumed by our greedy mongering of betterment that we shun those who are the fabled "rest". We look down on them and demean them as "low", "unworthy", "untrustable" and "unreliable". And we miss, in our overbearing bustle, that they are more reliable and more worthy than the lot of us. A down's syndrome woman of twenty-three can be relied upon for a smile and a pleasant conversation one-hundred percent of the time. All they want is our love and that's all they give and all they know. Have you seen otherwise, then look at the way you, as a community have raised them, feed a plant poison and it becomes poisonous. Look again at those you see as below and keep them close to you. Either as support, a reminder, or as your sick self's own little punching bag. Feed them love and watch that love amplify. They are always there and always ready to smile with you. Like the rest of us all they want is a little appretiation, a friend.

I pity.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Meats, mutts and the green couch

desperation... Gotta eat
Basically, and I want to give it to you straight like this, basically I had a bad dream and then, at the worst point I realized I wasn't dreaming. It started out kinda swell but got real bad and real lonely real fast. It was strange but once I realized that all I had to do was obey, it got so much simpler. Like the math, the morals, the bodies didn't matter. All I had to worry about was fitting in, not being seen, not standing out as different. All I had to do was obey and everything would keep falling into my lap. I obsessed over the dead bodies for about three days. after the third month though I couldn't see them as anything more than what they were. They were all nothing but bloody masses of pre-processed meat. Some pre-dead, some post. Some were already chopped up into neat little squares in my mind as they stepped off the subway. He was heading home that night. He had his briefcase in hand and his tie already off and draped over his arm like some cheap date waiter. He was used to nothing and it showed how hard he thought his day was. The dictations came, I had to show him why he should be grateful to be alive and kill him so he could never make the mistake again. I got off with him and wandered around until I found where he lived. He led the way, all I had to do was follow. And he lived with two women and a dog. The dog was a mutt and a loyal one. Good and loyal to steak. I fed his some flesh on the way in and on the way out and he was real quiet for me. The wife and daughter were real fun individuals. Exciting when they screamed. Tasty inside and out. And the child, oh she was tight. Tight and tender. Nothing like an eight-year-old. The kitchen is where I started. Why most back doors lead into the kitchen is beyond me but that's where I found myself. Wondering what to do in this man's house... I crept. The living room was dark and there were lamps and a couch. In the darkness the couch looked dusty-grey, that meant it had a bit of a green tint in the light. I'd seen that colour in the darkness before. The TV, shoulda known, was a small one. And by the dust layer on it; it looked like it hadn't been watched in a long while. Both mom and dad must be the working type. Poor kid. Poor kids. I looked around the corner and there was nothing but a table and a china cabinet, barely empty... Nothing in a house where the occupants are scraping to make an existence. They were scraping. I crept upstairs. He was making love to his wife. She was three months pregnant. They were in love. So it made sense to make him watch her get raped and killed. Makes him appreciate it more, what he has, has had, had. It wasn't that hard to knock him down, caught ‘em off guard and by surprise. The kid was sound asleep through the screaming. When she wandered in the room, while I had her mom pinned and screaming, she was crying and her mother went white with fear. I had to do it you understand. I had to obey and they were just breathing meat-slabs anyway. No one's against playing with your food except your mother and yours isn't here to scold me. Besides, I was just following orders, just obeying. Just obeying. The mother wasn't easy to kill, she fought. He would have fought for her but I can tie a really good knot. Thanks to the training I was ordered to go through. Mom sent me through the scouts. The mother, she was nice to me sure, she made it fun and the best part was the way the vein on his head was pulsing and bulging when the blood sprayed. I watched the second spurt hit his forehead. Pulses, spurts, straining against the rope. Good rope. The kid was screaming, frozen to her feet. Crying, holding a stuffed something as the room went red and the screaming woman gurgled and stopped. Screaming child, gagged man. It was the first time he'd felt anything in a very long time. A lesson he could not be allowed to soon forget. The child was almost no fun, but far more exciting. she didn't kick or swat as much, she was kinda dumb-founded but she was so tight that it hurt her so she squirmed with every screaming thrust. I could feel her soft fingers pushing at me, grabbing the carpet, those little tears in her blonde hair. Short blonde. Almost a shame for a girl so young and pretty to have such short hair. Her feet were smattered underneath with mothers blood, her knees too were smeared. I followed the smearing to her thighs. Had to rip off the rest of the night-gown she wore. One of dad's old shirts. I could smell the fear mixing with the blood in the air as mom's glazed over eyes, dead with tears watched blankly her own daughter's rape. The father cried now for the first time. I decided to take the child back alive with me. More fun at home while I skinned and processed the parents. I cut him open at the stomach and let him bleed to death. Both of them were lighter without so much blood. Home with the kid and left her locked in the room. Then back with the van for the meat. They fit nicely into bags when chopped into pieces. They would nourish me and the girl for quite a while. Good meat. I sampled some before I left and shoved a chunk in my pocket... snack along the way. The dog was a loyal mutt and I fed him on the way out the first time. The last time I slit his throat and took him home too. Good meat. I hauled them into the van and drove 'em home. It took me a full day and a half to process 'em down good and right. The girl was getting used to the playful things and was now good at it. Especially with her mouth. She liked the green couch I had the best, said it reminded her of home. She liked it when I played with her there. She would zone out and ignore me with her face smashed to the cushions... ...Too bad she'd have to go soon too. I'm getting used to the smell of having a girl around the house again. But I'm sure next time they'll let me hunt on the playground. Another toy... one that screams. And they all learn their lesson. Obey.
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