Digging up the Past Again

These were written sometime in 1999 which turned out to be a very productive year...they have been edited slightly from the originals which were dug up from the "old disk graveyard"...


This kid at school was bragging that his mom is in jail. He said it is best not to kill the rats because their corpses attract fleas. I guess his mom told him that. I stay at my grandmother's a lot. She has never been in jail but she smokes a lot of cigarettes. The ceiling is black above her kitchen table where she smokes. I think she is sad a lot. She likes pottery. She made an ashtray. I asked her if they have ashtrays in heaven. She spanked me. I asked her why she spanked me. She started to cry. I asked her if it was better to be sad than mad. She laughed. But it was a sad kind of laugh. Then she coughed really loudly and I felt like puking. She says I like candy too much. I told her it doesn't make me cough a lot. She spanked me again. She must like spanking me or maybe she secretly likes candy better than cigarettes. She makes funny faces when daddy's around. One time I saw daddy spit beer in her face. It was an accident. My mommy told me that it doesn't matter what other people think of you. It matters what you think of yourself. But stuff like that doesn't help if somebody tries to run you over with their car. Daddy told me that.


A Press Conference is being held for an independent film after its first screening for the press. The questions are directed at the film's writer/director/producer/star.

Reporter 1: This film was malicious, cruel, rude, immoral and completely insulting to the human condition. What filth! What horrible filth!

w/d/p/s: Lady, which theater were you in? WHICH MOVIE DID YOU SEE? My movie, "Death Cums Slowly"?!?

Reporter 1: Yes, "Death Cums Slowly". What exactly was your motivation behind this exhibitionist trash?

w/d/p/s: My motivation is "Art" you ignorant media flea. I don't expect your kind to understand this type of thing.

Reporter 1: So I suppose your definition of art would be the shameless promotion of suicide, murder, masochism, sadism, brutal violence, pointless degradation and a downright dangerous and repulsive emptiness of morality?

w/d/p/s: You speak so highly of my work. You seem to have really grasped my main themes quite astonishingly. THIS FILM IS A PARODY AND A SATIRE OF THE ENDLESSLY AMUSING CONDITION OF WESTERN CIVILIZATION. Sadly you are blind to my unique vision. Take out your petty frustrations on a loved one when you get home. Next question.

Reporter 2: Now, animals were obviously hurt during the making of this film. How do you justify this?

w/d/p/s: Talk to my lawyers.

Reporter 2: And the people that were hurt?

w/d/p/s: Once again...the lawyers.

Reporter 3: Why do you talk so much during the film? I mean, half the time you're talking to yourself.

w/d/p/s: You want to know why? Because I love the sound of my voice. I like the way it FFFEEEEEEELS. And being the protagonist in the film, my job in this role is to expose the layers of pretension in society that drive us away from our natural instincts. Very tedious. But my performance is of course...quite excellent.

Reporter 4: How exactly did you put together the funding for this film?

w/d/p/s: I drained the college fund my parents set up for me and I ripped off the United Way and the Girl Guides. Next question.

Reporter 4: You what?!?

w/d/p/s: Strike that from the record. You people bore me.

Reporter 5: Any thoughts on Hollywood?

w/d/p/s: Hollywood is an inbred suicide machine. My idea of a good time doesn't include getting abused and violated by _____________. I create "Art" for people who understand these things. I'm not in it to throw a fuck into _________________, although I am trying to get her to play the main character in my next film "The Suicide Whore".

Reporter 5: I see. Do you have a distributor for your film yet?

w/d/p/s: Yes, as a matter of fact I do. Unfortunately the man in charge is in jail for mutilating cattle and uttering death threats towards his grandmother. He is also very busy running his doomsday cult, which is quite a challenge from behind bars. He'll be out in two months and I expect things to go smoothly then.

Reporter 5: What?!? What's the name of the distributor?

A lawyer quickly steps in.

Lawyer: OK, that's enough questions. Thank you all for coming. Please remember that you all signed a waiver on the way in. Therefore, nothing you have heard this evening will hold up in court. Kindly exit through the door at the back of the room. There is a Compulsive Masturbator's Support Group that needs this room. Uhhh...why aren't you all leaving? Oh, right...right. The support group. Sorry. No...really, I'm sorry. I didn't realize how many reporters have sexual disorders.


song

Singing alone
A voice at the mercy of desire
Singing alone
On a lonely bed
Singing alone
In memory of herself
She sings alone
Suffering
with a song to prove it


-Do you have a hard time looking certain people in the eye? Do you wonder if this is somehow related to forgotten childhood experiences?
-Do you ever feel like your facial expressions and body language might reveal much more than you want them to?
-Do you think you are powerful enough to change someone into what you want them to be? At least when they're with you?
-Are you aware of your capacity to invite violence in somebody else?
-Do you ever wonder if too much knowledge could hold you back in life?
-Do you think most people are out of touch with their emotions, leading to monstrous inhibitions and an inability to communicate honestly?
-Do you think many psychiatrists secretly enjoy listening to their patients on a purely entertainment level?

I had thought of all these perfect things to say but they don't make sense anymore....feel the unlimited potential for misunderstanding...feel the lie...suffering in the wrong perspective...the balance is completely ruined...restoring a system of ideals that were used in childhood to recognize impending dangers to pure states of indulgence...refusing to taste the yawning abyss of despair in the eyes of the hopeless as the poisons blossom in your bodies...every day you put your life in the hands of others with despicable track records against humanity…laughter echoes...denial saves lives...hardly an advertisement for life…destroy the unity of your inner being and let me know how you see it all...don't be another gutless clone...breathe life into your dreams...the worst crime is being boring...


Watching The Simpsons on drugs...

boy slips in and out of dimensions…father acts with extreme prejudice…family appears to be on drugs…family cries, psychotic tears…boy acts borderline psychotic…girl possibly psychotic…neighbours degrade family…news anchor senile, possibly psychotic…boy's defense mechanisms eroding…father psychotic towards daughter…boy acts as strange victim scapegoat…bartender acts strange, possibly on drugs or psychotic…boy begs for forgiveness…family acts psychotic…strange interlude…news anchor psychotic…town acts psychotic…clown homicidal…boy's mind is on trial…magic invades the air…commercials feature cute, greedy psychotic kids…commercials for movie are surreal, violent, psychotic…neigbour possibly psychotic…preacher psychotic, possible drug use…musical pieces of air…temporary distraction involving insanity of colours…boy thinks about deconstructing clouds, demolishing art…girl considers her relationship to the universe…girl attempts to destroy superego…boy tries to find loophole in his mind…rampant paranoia…boy gently guides the hands of a reluctant victim…town clearly psychotic…God moves through the bowels of the mind…boy threatens his tongue, other parts of anatomy…boy pulls teeth out with pliers, eats them…bartender possibly controlled by alien force…goddamn memory is fucked…carbon based Jesus narrates through plastic bubble…mother attempts to instill family values, fails…exploding haircuts…girl drowns in a sea of mediocrity…boy fades in and out of dimensions…boy destroys logic…boy sleeps in graveyard…family severely psychotic…boy finds existence barely tolerable…too much fear…neighbour acts psychotic, loads shotgun…neighbour threatens animal…neighbour calmly threatens the universe…boy rides out of town on decrepit mule…end

A Pretty Good Idea

I thought of a good idea for a short story. A hard luck son-of-a-bitch plays the same lottery numbers every week for his entire miserable life. He starts playing the numbers in his late teens and the story begins in his mid-fifties. His wife has just left him and his kids won’t talk to him because he’s a pathetic, bitter old man. He looks twenty years older than he is. A stressful, terrifying life of mediocrity. He has nothing to show for his hard work except a tiny apartment and a bunch of bills piling up on his kitchen table. One day he decides to walk to the corner store like he does every week to play his lottery numbers. On his way he sees a shiny object out of the corner of his eye. He investigates and sees a brand new, shiny penny. He bends over to pick up the penny and feels a stabbing pain in his lower back. He realizes that he has thrown his back out. He hobbles back to his apartment, takes a few painkillers and lays his weary bones on the couch. He watches some TV and passes out. The next day he instinctively grabs the paper as it comes through his mail slot and checks the lottery numbers. His numbers jump off the page like a shot of pure adrenaline followed by a sickening feeling that washes over his entire body. He pukes. He pukes again. He didn’t play his numbers the day before because he threw his back out. He threw his back out bending down to pick up a penny. A shiny fucking penny. Twenty million dollars that should have been his. He pukes again. All because of a goddamn penny. It was so fucking SHINY.
Well, I started out telling you about the idea for a story and practically wrote the whole thing. Anyways, I’ll leave it up to you to write the ending.

For those of you wondering why I haven't been posting very often it's because of a novel I'm writing. A timeless epic romance novel entitled "DON'T YOU FUCKING LIE TO ME!"

joke