acidpt
He fought bravely for his life. But in the end it wasn't enough.
Tiredness and wariness set in too fast. Two inches more and the foxhole would have been deep enough. But even then, who knows. Shrapnel is a fucking beast. He never knew what hit him. His dogtags were picked up two hours later.
A heartfelt thanks and goodbye was not enough for Joe. Somehow he had hoped for more - but who was he to demand more from this woman? Had his help not been enough? Did he really expect her to repay him to the letter? Maybe he was just confused, man, or tired, or so horny he would just later jerk himself off in the car afterwards.
"I'm gonna level with you. The pineapple stockpile is gettin' pretty low, and we have no chance to get it back up again in time for the annual pineapple convention. You should have bought the pineapple insurance like I told you."
Strike down the magnets with your thunder, scatter them to bits and toss them asunder. Strike, Stroke, Stricken. Fell ill and behead the shark. Gondolin and barracuda, who will save me from the falling plane? Me? Her? Who knows, who can tell. Coffee. Too much or maybe too little.
Complete mental breakdown. The building was supposed to collapse at the press of the button; but all that happened was a faint puff of smoke. Dynamite miscalculated. Catastrophe. My boss will kill me. I walk inside and the damn thing finally goes off. Damn. I really need to see a shrink or something.
Stay very still.
The clockface is about to explode in a million pieces. White marble everywhere. People trespassed by giant metal hands which will now set the time inside your stomach. But if you stay still and enjoy the moment before you get stabbed in the most bizarre turn of events possible, it will last forever; you will live forever. Enjoy.
A wing and a prayer. Land safely on the tarmac. Hope. Parrot birds. Saintly robes and opal beards. Tears flowing downs stone faces. Baptismal sinks. Sinkhole opening on the ground as wheels touch down. Final utterance by passengers: deliver us from evil and forgive our sins, oh lord. Kaboom.
Stairway to Heaven is playing as I enter the mall. This is a really shitty mall; in fact it's just a basement with half a dozen shops. Decayed and abandoned. I walk to the back, and the dealer is there. He sells me some weed and then asks, hey man, have you tried falling off some stairs on your head? It's the best high of your life. I make a mental note to find a new dealer.
My card was declined today. Not credit card, my greeting card. What do you mean, you don't want my card, I said, who do you think you are, the pope? Because you're not the pope, bitch, because I am the pope, and if I ever see you stealing from the cookie jar again I will sic the hounds of the apocalypse on your bitch ass.
We should be grateful for all the bounty of nature and that includes penguins, be they royal penguins, emperor penguins, crazy villainous penguins or really any kind of penguins we can get our hands on and eat, except for the last ones, because I'll bet Danny DeVito tastes sweaty and blubbery and gross.
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writing since 2011 · 32 entries · 31 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Acid showed up.
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nowlateheadpenguinsreasonstopgodwritingshitsinusbloodycoldeatbirdscardcelebrate