Place
- Submitted by: silverfriends
- Views: 461
- Category: Arts
- Date Submitted: 09/29/2010 10:47 AM
- Pages: 2
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Prologue
Walking down the path leading to my house, I came to the realization that it was raining. It wasn’t my fault. But it was yours. Without hesitation, I made it my mission to destroy you—to eat you, spit you out, and step on you. I’m not an alcoholic, and neither is my pet. I can’t deny that you’ve eased your way into my car, but you’ll have to find your way onto the road. You’ll dissolve in the sand (God, I pray it’s so) and soon I’ll never have to see another prostitute smash a window for a pair of imitation Gucci shoes.
I’m unemployed.
I know better than to trust anyone but myself. Even my dog is a little suspicious—I’m not sure why he’s the only dog I know that looks at the ceiling. Plants, while not necessarily audible, are among the worst creatures to co-habit with humans. I’m 100% sure that it won’t be long until a monstrous orchid will erase the platypus population in Australia. Mark my words. Highlight them. Memorize them. Chant them. Worship me.
The life of a homeless man is not an easy one. Luckily, I have a house with an entire four-seat couch. It’s blue. At night it’s black. But I guess it’s because I have no power in my house. I don’t have a flashlight either. Leave it at that and don’t question me. It’s not easy being me.
I hope that between the eloquent spaces of my paragraphs an epiphany shocks you back to life. Because the words in these paragraphs will do nothing for you. They’re just here to help you focus on what really matters. The white. The black. The second of confusion between the period and the capital letter D.
Before I allow you to turn the page, I’ll forewarn you—this book will not interest you in the minimum. And if it does—you’re probably demonic. I pray to God you’re not. I pray to him because he’s the only one that can defeat you. By just snapping his fingers (does he have any fingers?). Take your highlighter, and mark these last words for me:
Shut the back door. There’s someone looking at you. ;)
Walking down the path leading to my house, I came to the realization that it was raining. It wasn’t my fault. But it was yours. Without hesitation, I made it my mission to destroy you—to eat you, spit you out, and step on you. I’m not an alcoholic, and neither is my pet. I can’t deny that you’ve eased your way into my car, but you’ll have to find your way onto the road. You’ll dissolve in the sand (God, I pray it’s so) and soon I’ll never have to see another prostitute smash a window for a pair of imitation Gucci shoes.
I’m unemployed.
I know better than to trust anyone but myself. Even my dog is a little suspicious—I’m not sure why he’s the only dog I know that looks at the ceiling. Plants, while not necessarily audible, are among the worst creatures to co-habit with humans. I’m 100% sure that it won’t be long until a monstrous orchid will erase the platypus population in Australia. Mark my words. Highlight them. Memorize them. Chant them. Worship me.
The life of a homeless man is not an easy one. Luckily, I have a house with an entire four-seat couch. It’s blue. At night it’s black. But I guess it’s because I have no power in my house. I don’t have a flashlight either. Leave it at that and don’t question me. It’s not easy being me.
I hope that between the eloquent spaces of my paragraphs an epiphany shocks you back to life. Because the words in these paragraphs will do nothing for you. They’re just here to help you focus on what really matters. The white. The black. The second of confusion between the period and the capital letter D.
Before I allow you to turn the page, I’ll forewarn you—this book will not interest you in the minimum. And if it does—you’re probably demonic. I pray to God you’re not. I pray to him because he’s the only one that can defeat you. By just snapping his fingers (does he have any fingers?). Take your highlighter, and mark these last words for me:
Shut the back door. There’s someone looking at you. ;)