WOOKIEES WON'T DROWN ME.
Seeven sheets will confound me.
Why do we have so many nightmares, staring us in the face?
We talk out of our buttholes. It is not even real shit.
... we're on the road to nowhere ...
The box will come back to surprise and delete you.
supprise and deleet u
Just cram the seat in posh lapse. Up sell the greet of shop slam. Is Nam a slop eraser? Coop newish ache tag along. List ermine troupe a balmy ripe.
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Opening my eyelids, you search yourself for sympathy and examine the misfits in the foreground of your thoughts. Drunk retards dash near the zone for hour-long parking where zero cars are parked. Seeing this, you untie my tourniquet and with it lash one of them just hard enough to draw blood from his cheek. Your sister stands in his way, grabs his shoulder, stops him, and kisses the cheek. Nobody but you sees this. You decide you need to go after the maniacs vanish into other people's problems. Now that honesty is unnecessary, you say, "I need you now." Someone behind you startles you, but he's just staring, not listening. You drag my body into the gutter. The stranger continues to stare and smokes a cigarette. You wipe your hands and, looking through yourself at nothing, say, "What do you want?" The stranger looks at me and I say nothing. He exhales and smoke envelopes your head. You don't breathe. You stare at my closed mouth and hear the stranger say, "I thought I would be older by now."
I shot the hanging mass of meat with a taser. My team wass far less experienced than the others. We sneaked a flask full of mead into the event to make life more interesting. We knew didn't have a shot at winning anyway. The spirit of competition is way tamer than I expected. One of my teammates could not handle the wine. He had a wild mane of dry-dead-leaf hair and a worn-out, unpredictable face. We tried to ween him off the sauce, but he kept snatching it and began to shout about pandas dying off or invading the U.S. and other inebriated fantasies. Two officers from the group with most experience caught him and tossed his floppy body out into the snow. I followed the shouted curses out into the night. The seniors barked at us to go home. After they slammed the stark heavy dull metal door, I felt the alcohol warp my mood significantly for the first time that evening. I reviewed my circumstance from the outside and found it laughable, in both a comical and depressingly pathetic way. The over-drunk outcast, Seth, was face down on the curb. I lifted him by his shoulders. The weeds under his face were half-thawed. I sensed that this episode of each of our lives was about to end. I wrapped his arm around my neck to help him walk. We trekked over a swath of frozen white parking lot. We had almost two miles to go. The threat of the cold was real and immense but we were too high to care or make a better judgement. In the yard of the trailer Seth was renting, we tripped over a pile of old fishing nets and squirmed around for a minute. Laying on the frosty ground, in my frustrated concentration on getting us untangled, my view was of a trailer wall of graffiti tags. Unconsciously I tried to decipher them. This moment seemed to last forever. I lost all my bearings. Somehow I found myself inside Seth's trailer, turning up the heat. I slumped his limp fully dressed body onto a couch, his head on the top of a back cushion his feet on the hard carpet. and threw a quilt over his torso and face. I ran hot kitchen tap water over my numb hands. My skin was stinging as the feeling came back. I bent over the sink and doused my face. I seemed to be waking up from a long weird day. Fatigue crashed down on me. I almost collapsed right there but instead found the strength to stumble the ten feet to the bed, kick my boots off, shed my coat and fall back onto mattress.
I woke up right away, mid-morning. I realized I had fallen asleep immediately last night. I thought that time is barreling full speed through me. Then my skull exploded. All I could do... was... sh-shut my... eyestightly! andsay-fuckstopit.Stp-stopit.!ow!
Seth was standing at the stove scrambling shitty eggs, softly whistling. He heard me and peeked into the room... "Good fucking morning, beautiful fucking angel. Ha ha ha ha!"
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