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Steve often wondered if having fantasies about slitting the throats of people close to him was a bad thing. Steve was not like most men. While others were concerned with work, politics, beer, or internet porn, he would do large amounts of drugs and plan revenge and world domination including mass persecutiuon and genocide.
He always had noble dreams.
"Freedom Is Never Having To Say That You're Sorry"
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every morning i wake up i think about dieing. i think i should seek professional help.
Oh.... It Could Be Worse.
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"My Dark Little Goddess"
She looks at me and laughs.
I know that whatever is to happen to me next will be the conclusion to my failed, miserable exsistance. With a simple gaze, she has paralyzed me. I am powerless. Tears come to my eyes. She strides up to me with that smile that I love so dearly.
Oh no, now I'm melting.
Reaching out to me, she inserts her hand into my chest, and pulls out my still beating heart. She holds it in front of me, examining it closly with a strange sort of ominous curiosity in here eyes.
This dosen't hurt as bad as I thought it would... Oh, nope... my mistake. This hurts pretty fuckin' bad.
She looks deep into my eyes, invading my mind, tearing down my defenses, raping my thoughts. She drops my heart onto the floor, and it shatters into a thousand geometrically congruant pieces.
I love her for it.
"Karma"
I met a guy once who was a real prick.
He threatened me some, and commited unforgivable acts of betrayl. He was the type that I imagine hides in a dark closet and cries when he's mad, wears women's undergarments, runs over dogs for fun, and beats up little children.
On the Day of Reckoning, he will be one of the first to die. While we're at it, Jim Carey will actually be executed publically.
"Slice of Life"
Old folks that have lived long and decidedly meaningless lives would say that things always get worse before they get better. For once I would have to agree.
After yet another night at Joe's apartment, Kurt, Tony, and I awoke to another day, but this time to a banging at the door.
"Anyone in there?" A male voice asked from outside.
We were all quiet. We knew that only Joe was supposed to be here, and that the profound finding of the three of us would lead to things that would make the Holocaust look tame. Using the same logic that has guided many a youth through the trials and tribulations of growing up, we simply ignored the problem and hoped that it would go away. It didn't.
"Hello!?!" The voice spoke again.
"Shit!" I whispered. The jangling of keys could be heard from outside the door. Only mere seconds and a slim piece of metal lay between us and fate. We all looked at one anther and hoped to gain some sort of strength, but found that each of the others had the same scared, school girl look on their respective faces. The door opened and the stern gaze of a rather decrepit looking old man met ours.
"Jesus Christ! Look at this mess! What in the Hell is going on here?!? You little bums do know that only Joseph Lee is supposed to be living here don't you?" The old man began shouting.
The three of us looked around at the apartment. Dog-eared copies of "Bald Beaver" lay all over the floor, an over-flowing litter box adorned a corner, empty Marlboro cigarette boxes littered the kitchen floor, empty soda cans covered the coffee table, and the cat, Thomas, lay in a bowl used for popcorn the night before.
"What mess?" was all I could muster to say.
Created on ... November 12, 2000
