let’s criminalize ‘prettiness’ scar ourselves with sharp rocks compliments are insults bathing is unnecessary ugly animals all fat and filthy reeking foulness rubbing mud in our hair and throwing our shit at each other gouge out our perceptions with long dirty fingernails Is this the best we can do?
I’ve left my tower before. I don’t see what the big deal is. There’s sun and wind out there like there is in here. Same sun, same wind. The city at ped level is interesting sure, but not as interesting as say, Egypt during the Ptolemy’s reign or Mexico city … Continue reading
The work of an evil despot is never done. How many mornings must I awaken to spit at the dawn? How many babies must I dump from their cradles? How many churches must I put to the torch? It’s never enough. It all becomes tiresome after a while. Oh, I … Continue reading
First of all, it was an apple, not a fucking fig. Big, juicy fucking apple. Come ON- I was there. All those painters brushing blood red fruit on canvas: Where did you think they got that fucking idea? You think they just couldn’t paint figs? That sort of art started … Continue reading
“Get on the ground! Get on the ground! ON THE GROUND! NOW!” They’d come in through every entrance in the building, each door blown in with explosive charges seconds before dozens of armored soldiers came crashing through the rubble. “DOWN! DOWN! DOWN! DOWN ON THE FLOOR!” they shouted, pointing frightening … Continue reading
I never wanted to live in the enchanted forest.
I’d inherited the shoe from great aunt Gertrude a few years before if for no other reason than that I was her last surviving relative- tales of profuse breeding habits notwithstanding.
I’d been up there a couple times as a kid, whole summers with Mom (never Dad- he never went near the wood) and although I remember there being many children on the property, Bertie had established her day care facility on the grounds precisely BECAUSE she’d never had children of her own. Never met the right man or something, I don’t remember the details. We were never close. So anyway, when I got the call from her attorney, Anthony “Squealy” Porkman (of Porkman Porkman and Porkman Property Law) about the shoe, it was also the first I’d heard that old Gertie was even dead.
I was surprised by the bequeathal, honestly. my mother’s aunt had always been something of a bitch to mom and me, something about her marrying a damn ‘outwooder’, and myself being the product of that apparently unholy union. Continue reading