Tales of People Dying pt. 14: Satan’s Daughter

Jack Marlow had been alone for a long time. He would watch the beautuful women from afar, never brave enough to open a line of dialogue with them. To ask them how their day was. To compliment them on an immaculate hair day.

His nights consisted of making a dinner for one. Sitting on the couch and eating that dinner while watching a movie he had seen a hundred times. Then bedtime would fall upon him. He would change into his bed attire. Lay back into his queen size bed and masturbate while thinking of all the pretty ladies he would never have.

But on this night Jack Marlow decided to change all that. Instead of his normal bedtime ritual, this time he got on his hands and knees and prayed to God to give him the courage and strength to approach another of the opposite sex. That he was so sad and lonely and he would do anything to feel the love of another.

After his prayer he climbed in bed, masturbated, and fell asleep.

Later that night he was awoken to someone whispering in his ear.

“Jacky boy,” the figure said in a raspy whisper. “Wakey wakey.”

And Jack did wake to find a male figure standing above him.


“Do I look like an asshole?”

“Who are you?”

“Me? I’m your slimey friend the Devil.”


“Yeah…Prince of Darkness, Beezelbub…I’ve got many names.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Answering your prayer Jacky.”

“I prayed to God.”

“You think God cares if you want to get laid?”

“But you do?”

“Fuck yes Jacky.”


“Look, I’m here to do you a service. You want to get laid, I’m the guy that can get that done.”

“And what do I have to do?”

“You said you would do anything.”

“Pretty much.”

“There’s only one thing I want from you Jacky…your soul.”

“Don’t I need that?”

“Have you ever used it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Exactly. Here, let me show you what I got. I’m pulling out the goods for you Jacky. Only the best, my own daughter.”

A female appears beside the Devil. She is everything Jack Marlow had dreamed of. She stood there hands on her hips, lips pouty, a smile creeping onto her face.

“Oooo…I’d fuck him for free,” she teases.

“Haha! Well nothing is free sweetheart. Go lay next to him. Let him feel your essence.”

She lays next to Jack Marlow. Taking her hand and running it up and down his chest. He looks up at the Devil.

“I’ll give you any fucking thing you want.”

“Your soul.”

“It’s a deal.”

They shake hands. The Devil starts to walk away. He says one last thing.

“If you cum. You die.”

“What?” Jack Marlow asks without getting an answer. The Devil’s daughter is already on top of him. Riding him widly. Jack Marlow tries to resist but feels the pressure rising inside him. And after about a minute he explodes in pleasure. It’s then he feels his body numbing and darkness overtaking him. His heart stops. He slips away.


Tales of People Dying pt. 13: A Metaphorical Death

I’ve died three times in my life. My physical death, the moment I saw her smile and the moment she left my life. The latter being the more painful death. A death I never recovered from.

The smile brought a welcome death. The weakness of body and heart. Make you susceptible for what is to come. Your brain is trying with all it’s might to build a wall to protect itself. Knowing what comes when it all falls apart. But the body being the more resilient of the two softens to take the blow.

I saw that smile and my body lost all control. Passing away into another realm so I could fill myself with all of her. I died that night and it was glorious.

My second death was vicious. Ripping and tearing. Pain seething and searing. Unrelenting. Poisonous. Spreading within me. Losing control of emotions and decision making.

It was like ripping my skin off. Losing completeness. Cutting a whole in my chest allowing all to drain out leaving an empty nothing.

We all die. Some deaths are welcome. Some make it that nothing feels good anymore. You press on from. But you never recover from the unwelcome death. I never did. She was the last thing I thought of on the night of my physical death. And to be honest, it was as welcome as the death from her smile. In some strange way I felt whole again.

Tales of People Dying pt. 12: The Shitty Birthday Present Prank

“He got me a fucking Celine Dion cd. Told me we are so in love and that she’s all about love so it is the perfect gift.”

“Eww, what’d you say?”

“I didn’t say shit. I set it down, smiled and carried on with my business. He stood there like a lump for a few minutes then went back to watching Game of Thrones or some shit.”

“What a fucking retard.”

“I got him back though.”

“Oh really? What’d you do?”

“You wanna see?”

“Do dicks taste like burritos?”


“Sorry, I’m trying out new sayings. Yes I want to see.”

The two girls venture outside to a storage shed of sorts that resides behind the house they currently occupy. Inside the shed is dark and a muffled, desperate cry can be heard emanating from the far left corner. A light is turned on and revealed is a male tied to a chair with a pillowcase covering his head.

“I kidnapped his fucking arse, ” says Kara trying to speak in a British accent.

Jen leans in close to Kara and whispers, “Is this for real?”

“As real as sliced bread.”

“What are you doing? This is insane.”

“I’m going to torture him,” Kara says in a maniacal manner.

A muffled “Hello” emits from the corner.

“This is illegal,” says Jen.

“Illegal…ha…this is fun. Besides he deserves it.”

“What for? Watching Game of Thrones?”

“I’m going to start.”

Kara approaches the male. He is shirtless. Kara grabs a tub of petroleum jelly and rubs it onto the male’s chest.

“What are you doing?” asks Jen.


“No. What are you doing?”

“Winging it.”

Kara reveals a battery that has a set of jumper cables connected. Jen steps closer and notices the male’s feet submerged in a bucket of water. 

“Here we go,” Kara says as she tests the electric flow through the cables and creating sparks.

She stands in front of the male and touches his chest with each end sending an electric current through the male causing him to seize and kicking forward turning over the bucket.

Kara pulls the cables away and looks at Jen.

“Can you be a doll and fill that up for me?”

“I really don’t want to be involved.”

“Don’t be a bitch Jen.”

Jen mumbles something but grabs the metal bucket and takes it to a hose. Fills the bucket and brings it back to Kara.

“I’m not being a bitch. I’m so out of here.”


Jen walks past Kara and not paying attention trips on the jumper cables pulling them from Kara’s hands. Jen tries to catch her balance but loses it falling forward onto the metal bucket. Her left arm landing inside it. Inside the metal bucket that the jumper cables had also fallen into. 

Jen lay violently twitching on the floor of the shed. Kara watched in an enthusiastic fascination. 

Kara, then realizing the outcome that may arise, she runs to the battery disconnecting the cables.

She leans over Jen. Seeing no breathing she searches for a pulse. None can be found. 

Kara looks at the male. 

“Well…what now?”


Tales of People Dying pt. 11: The Thanksgiving Date

I’ve never been the most attractive of gals. Not your typical slim beauty. I have curves and a wonky nose so dating isn’t all that easy. 

I joined an online dating site because I thought, what the hell, it’s the holidays and maybe I could find a nice fella to spend them with and if nothing else, free food. (I sound like such a fatty but everyone loves food, get over it.) I found him the day before Thanksgiving. He was cute and sweet and found my wonky nose endearing.

He invited me to his family’s house to share the holiday and get to know each other. It seemed strange but, it was exactly what I wanted.

Everything was great at first. His family was really nice and he was much cuter than his pictures let on. We had many laughs and I felt special for the first time in a long time. 

It wasn’t until after we ate and his mother began pouring wine. At first I thought I was just getting drunk really fast. But then I got light headed and fell to the floor. I never awoke after that. 

What I didn’t know at the time was that I was being drugged. And the reasoning for my being drugged was a grotesque nature that I never would have imagined. 

I never woke up because I was murdered that night. The worst part wasn’t that I was murdered. No, the worst part was that I was also eaten. Eaten by a family of sick, disgusting people.

Never more have I felt like such a fat little piggy. Thanks for that asshole.


Tales of People Dying pt. 10: The Ghost

Mr. Peabody had lived on the top floor of his apartment building for the past thirty-four years. When he first moved in his neighbors warned him of the spirits that haunted his new place of residence. He chose to ignore them and for the entirety of his stay had never seen a single ghostly figure.

But on this night that would all change. His night began as any other. Cooking a nutritious meal and sitting in his favorite chair to watch a mediocre television show to pass the time till he fell asleep.

He had just finished preparing his meal and sat down when the noise started outside. A horrible ruckus of shouting and expletives seemed to be coming from right outside his window. He walked to it, opened it and saw two teenage kids wrestling with each other. He shouted down to them, “Can you please keep it down?”. For which the teenagers just laughed. Mr. Peabody walked to the kitchen and filled a bowl with cold water. He took it back to the window and poured it on the two teenagers. The action was met with more expletives. Mr. Peabody smiled and went back to his chair; turning up the television to drown out any noise.


The two teenagers were not happy about the old man dumping water on them. One of them had a plan.

“That old man lives in the Adam’s apartment. Shit’s supposed to be haunted as fuck. I say we scare the shit out of that old man.”

“What do we do?”

“My Dad is the landlord of this shithole. I can get keys to any of the apartments. I say we sneak in, pretend to be ghosts and scare the shit out of the dirt bag.”

“That sounds aces. I’m in.”

So the teens go inside and find the key and a couple of white sheets and slowly make their way to Mr. Peabody’s.

They can hear the television from outside his door. One of the teens takes the key and without making a noise turns the lock. The door opens and the two slip inside. It is dark inside and they can see the glow of the television and the sleeping Mr. Peabody in a reclining chair. They sneak past him and enter the kitchen. They place their sheets over their heads. One of the teens grabs a couple of glasses and throws them one by one towards the reclining chair until Mr. Peabody wakes. He sits up frantically. Desperately trying to stand he pulls himself up and walks around the chair to find the broken glasses. A wind comes in through his open window blowing his curtains and directing his attention. The teens use this as their opportunity. They exit the kitchen and slowly make their way towards Mr.Peabody. He sees them and steps backwards. His bare feet connecting with the broken glass which causes him to lose balance. One teen starts to make scary noises and in a gruff voice says, “Get out!”

Still trying to catch his balance Mr. Peabody steps on another shard of glass. Blood has begun to seep from his wounds. His wounded foot falls in the mix of blood and glass causing him to slip and fall backwards. He outstretches a hand but catches nothing. For the only handhold around would have been his window, which remained opened due to the disturbances from the two teens.

Mr. Peabody’s hand exited the window. Followed by his upper body. He tried to grab at anything to try and pull himself back in but to no avail. His upper body weight pulled him forward. Sliding him out the window and falling to the concrete below.

The teens ran to the window. Throwing off their sheets and looking at the crumpled body that lay beneath them.

“He’s gonna move. He’s gonna be okay.”

“We have to do something.”

They watch as Mr.Peabody continues to lay still. They see a car driving up the road. It pulls over and a figure runs to the body. The two teens duck their heads inside.

“He’ll be fine. We gotta go.”

They gather up their things and exit the apartment.


As Mr.Peabody lay waiting for what he knew was coming he lay there trying to figure out why after thirty years of silence the ghosts would do this to him now. He figured he had always been a good tenant. That they lived in a peacefulness. Never getting in each other’s way. He died that night in a state of wonder. His last thoughts on the mysteries of the world and what lay ahead of him. He smiled at the thought and closed his eyes.


Tales of People Dying pt. 9: The Clown

The clown never expected today to be his last day. If he had, maybe he would have gone home and changed out of his costume and not have tried to be a hero. But this was the life of the clown. Nothing ever went the way he expected. Though in his final minutes he kept true to himself.

The clown entered the convenience store with the hopes of picking up a soda, a candy bar and maybe a six-pack of cheap beer and exit quickly back to his house to take a shower and lay on his couch while watching episodes of television he had seen plenty of times before. It was while standing at the beer cooler that he heard the bells of the door ringing. He had no reason to suspect any foul play to be afoot, hundreds of people walk through that door everyday. But then he heard the shouting.

He turned to the commotion and saw a figure waving something that looked like a gun in the store worker’s face. The clown knew that this could escalate into something where a life could be taken. He made a decision.

He walked to the young man with the gun.

“Well helllllooooo there sonny!,”the clown said.

The gunman looked at the clown in a confused manner.

“What the fuck is this?”

“Wow there sonny, that’s no way to speak to a friend and Chuckles here is everybody’s friend!”

“You got to be shittin’ me.”

The gunman looked back at the store clerk, “Keep putting the money in the bag you fuck!”.

The clerk does as told. The clown starts to run in circles running into a wire rack holding magazines. He falls with a crash. Jumps back to his feet bellowing a ridiculous laugh. He then goes to one knee outstretches his hands above his head and says,”Ta daa!”. The gunman looks at him. This is when the clown squirts the gunman in the face with a stream of water from a flower that is attached to his shirt.

“What the fuck man!”

The gunman not taking kindly to the clown’s act hits the clown in the back of the head with the butt of his gun. The clown falls hard face forward, his head bouncing off the hard tile. The clown blinks trying to clear his vision. All he sees is the blood seeping from his head collecting in a puddle in front of him and a red ball that he recognizes a his nose.

When the gunman’s business is complete he turns to run out of the store. The clown can only see his feet. He watches as the gunman’s foot steps on his nose. A squeak emits from underneath the sneaker. The clown silently laughs to himself and smiles as he closes his eyes.


Tales of People Dying pt. 8: The Pest

The house smelled like pineapples. A sweet smell that turned my stomach and made me want to leave immediately. I held back the sick that was working its way up my esophagus and ventured through a door by a kitchen that led to a basement that occupied the reasoning for my coming to this pineappley hell.

The basement smelled better but there was a thickness in the air that seemed to encapsulate my head in an invisible pillow which made breathing a chore filling my eyes with tears that blurred my vision. I began to think I wouldn’t make it out of this house alive.

I made my way through the basement as best I could finding a wall and leaning against it at first then outstretching a hand to guide me. I began to feel light-headed and a cough rose from lungs. I coughed causing dust and who knows what else to loosen from the wall and drift into my face. The granules found a way into my already reddened eyes and felt like jagged rocks making cuts as I frantically blinked hoping my tears would wash them away.

It was then I lost all control of my legs and slid against the wall. The loose wood sent splinters into my shoulder causing me to take in a deep breath of the dust particles I’d stirred up with my sudden declination to the floor. I fell forward my face slamming hard pushing my teeth into my cheek and I swore I heard a cracking and a few teeth come loose. This thought became reality as my mouth filled with the coppery taste of my own blood.

I laid where I fell. My body sapped of all strength. My arms refused to move. I felt paralyzed. My mouth filling with blood faster than I could swallow. I felt a warmth under my head and saw a black liquid inching its way out from underneath. I instantly knew it was my blood. That my head had cracked open and that I was going to die. I laid there unable to remember my life. My head cloudy from whatever caused this. I closed my eyes and accepted the inevitable.

I came to at the feeling of cool air and muffled voices. I felt as if I were floating. I heard a woman’s voice…

“He ran in, I couldn’t stop him. He was repeating the same thing over and over, ‘It’s got to be here’. I yelled to him you can’t go in there it’s being fumigated but he just ran in so I called you guys. Is he going to be okay?”

I was being thrown around on what I assumed to be a gurney of some sort and I barely made out two figures pulling themselves into whatever I had just been put in. Two slamming noises and loud sirens followed. One of the figures put something on my face and air began to be forced into my nose. I laid there for a few minutes trying to figure everything out. To just make sense of what was going on. It was then I closed my eyes for the last time.




Until the End

A male is sitting in a room looking out a window. Another male enters.

Alexander: Are you ready?

Christian: Is Seraphim with you?

Alexander: She’s out by the car.

Christian lowers the blinds and turns to leave. Alexander follows.


Christian , Alexander and Seraphim are in a park. They walk towards a wooded area.

Seraphim: It’s so quiet here.

Alexander: It seems all the bad shit is going down in cities. Nothing here worth destroying.

Christian: What’s going on?

Seraphim: Looting, murder, suicide. You name it it’s happening.

Alexander: So why aren’t we out causing mayhem?

Christian: No one is forcing you to be here.

Alexander: You’re right, there’s no point.

Seraphim: (To Alexander) Didn’t you say you wanted to go out having sex?

Alexander: I changed my mind.

Seraphim: What caused that?

Alexander: Having sex out of wedlock is a sin. So, if there is a heaven, I’m trying my damndest not to fuck up my chances of getting.

Christian: Swearing is a sin too.

Alexander: I guess I’m just full of contradictions. Aside from saying a few bad words, today I am the most religious man you know.

Seraphim: You’re not serious.

Alexander: Yes I’m serious. You just don’t understand. You two have your golden tickets. Hell just look at your names. I’ve never given a fuck about that shit until my life is on the line. They say you find faith in times of woe. It appears it’s true.

Seraphim: (To Christian) You’re not jumping on the Jesus bandwagon are you?

Christian: You know me better than that.

The three of them walk in silence for a while.

Alexander: My mom wouldn’t stop crying. She hugged me for like thirty minutes. I didn’t think she would ever let me go.

Seraphim: My father wouldn’t even speak. He just sat staring at the blank screen of the tv.

Christian: I wonder if they are still alive?

Seraphim stops walking. Christian walks up to her. She wraps her arms around him.

Seraphim: (Looking Christian in the eyes) I love you.

Christian: I love you too.

Seraphim: I’m glad we met.

Christian: Sera, please, don’t do this now. Not yet.

Seraphim: I don’t want it to be too late. We have no idea when we are going to go. It could be any second now. Just let me say what I have too.

Alexander walks away.

Christian: (To Alexander) Where are you going?

Alexander: What you two have to say isn’t for my ears.

Christian looks back at Seraphim. She is smiling.

Christian: What?

Seraphim: Can’t I just look at you without there being a reason?

Christian: You just seem like you want to say something.

Seraphim: I do. It’ll come soon.


Alexander is much further down the trail. There is a rustling in the trees next to him. He sees a male and a female who appear to be having sex. He steps closer. The male looks at Alexander. Alexander sees blood on the male.

Alexander: What is going on? Get off her!

The male stands where he is and speaks to Alexander.

Male: Don’t you get it? We are free. There’s nothing we can’t do. We can unleash our forbidden desires and dine on the sins of man. It’s what God wants.

Alexander: You are crazy.

Male: Am I? Or are you just denying the truth? (He points to the sky) He is challenging us. This is His judgement day. We are all being judged.

Alexander: Is that what happened here? God’s judgement?

Male: He judged her through me. We are all dead my friend. It’s just a matter of time.

The male approached Alexander.

Alexander: Don’t come near me.

The man continues approaching and reveals a knife.

Alexander: I’m warning you.

The male runs at Alexander. Raising the knife he attempts to plunge it at Alexander. Alexander catches his arm and punches the males face. The male falls dropping the knife. Alexander picks it up.

Male: Be free.


Christian and Seraphim are now sitting on a patch of grass holding each other.

Seraphim: I have to tell you that in the twenty-two years that I have been alive I have never been as happy as the two year I have spent with you. The first day we met you made me smile and I haven’t stopped since.

Christian: You don’t have to do this.

Seraphim: I want to. I want you to know how much you mean to me. And that I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. I’m going with you. I’m going to die happy.

Christian kisses her on top of her head. She looks up at him. They kiss.

Christian: It’s the way it should be.

They kiss again. Alexander approaches.

Christian: Who’s blood is that?

Alexander: I had no choice.

Christian: No choice in what?

Alexander: Some crazy asshole up the trail.

Christian: You killed him?

Alexander: He was going to kill me.

Seraphim: Where did you get that?

Alexander looks in his hand. He drops the knife.

Alexander: You want to know something ironic? I’ve never felt so alive.

Christian: Just get cleaned up.

Alexander: What’s the point?

Christian: I don’t want to look at it.

Alexander removes his shirt and wipes himself off.

Seraphim: What’s happening to you?

Alexander: I’m looking death in the face and it isn’t pretty.

Searphim: You are losing your mind.

Alexander doesn’t respond.

Christian: I’m not ready.

Alexander: What?

Christian: I’m not fucking ready.

Alexander: You have no choice so, deal with it.

Christian: Fuck you.

Alexander: What’s your problem?

Christian: We are sitting here waiting to die.

Alexander: Why don’t you go cause some mayhem?

Christian: I’m not you. I’m not going to go kill someone. I want more time.

Alexander: i told you I had no choice.

Christian: How do we know that? How do we know all your Jesus talk wasn’t just complete bullshit and you are just as crazy as the rest of these people?

Seraphim: (To Christian) Why are you acting like this?

Christian: I’m fucking scared. I don’t want this. I want to wake up tomorrow and see your face. I’m not ready for nothingness.

Seraphim: We are all scared.

Christian walks to a tree and sits under it. Seraphim joins him and they wrap their arms around each other. Alexander lays on the ground in front of them. They stay that way for a while.

Everything goes black.



*Another attempt at something that went nowhere*

When Visible entered the saloon he knew he was asking for trouble. He walked quickly to the back of the establishment, the whole time hiding his face under his wide brim hat. The back corner was dark so he raised his hat a little, in time to see a whore approaching his table. She sits, leans back in her chair and raises her skirts to reveal stocking’d legs.

“Fancy ‘a swig an’ a poke Mista?”

“I’m expecting someone.”

“Sorry Mista, I ain’st be doin’ two’s ya.”

“Well that’s fine. I don’t fancy a poke.”

“Shame, me cunny’s real slick fer ya.”

Visible reaches out with his gloved hand and touches the whore’s knee.

“I think you’re right, why don’t you go grab a whiskey for me. I’ll toss it back we’ll see what happens next.”

The whore stands and goes to the bar. Visible removes his hat and places it on the table. Pulls his long jet black hair into a ponytail revealing his tattooed face. The whore returns with the whiskey. Stopping short of the table and dropping the glass to the floor. The crash brings the attention of two men at the bar. They approach the table. Visible stands and removes his shirt and gloves showing a tattooed torso to match his face.

The whore runs to the men who have drawn their pistols.

“Dat man da devil,” the whore exclaims.

The men remain speechless, only holding pistols at Visible and examining his tattooed body. They eyeball the intricate muscles that are painted into his arms, the heart that rests in the center of his chest enclosed in an armor of rib cage.

“What you is Mister?” one of the drunkards asks.

“I’m just a man trying to meet someone. I didn’t want trouble till you brought it amongst yourselves. I would appreciate it if I sit here in peace until my company arrives.”

The other drunkards speaks. “Well you done fucked that up ain’t ya son. We don’t take kindly to freaks or demons here. You see we God fearin’ people. We ain’t gots no use for your devils. No you leave or we’s make you leave.”

A man speaks from behind the drunkards.

“I think my partner has just the same right as any of you fine gentlemen to sit, enjoy a drink, await his company and leave. Now, if you have a problem with him, well, then I’m sorry to say it, you have a problem with me. I have a nasty habit of solvin’ my problems, just can’t let that rest on my conscious.”

A gun cocks followed by the releasing of steam. The drunkards turn to face the man behind them. He is hold a short barreled shotgun that has been modified with a tube at the top that is releasing a puff of steam. A ticking sound can heard and gears are at work beside the trigger.

“Vis, grab your gear, I think we have had all the hospitality we can take today.”

Visible replaces his shirt, gloves and hat then joins the side of the armed man. They back towards the door, the steam gun still pointed at the drunkards. They are about to exit when a giant black bird flys in from behind them and lands on the bar.

Charlie, the man with the steam gun, draws his attention to the bird.

“Well, this changes everything now don’t it,” he says.

A gunshot rings out from behind the bar.

“Get the fuck out or I’ll bleed you out,” the bartender yells at the two strangers and bringing the pistol down to point in their direction.

“Or not,” Charlie pulls the trigger of the steam gun. A loud roar emits and a mix of gunshot and force spews from the barrel. The two drunkards, the whore and the barman are all but disintegrated. Charlie and Visible use this distraction to run out the doorway.

They climb onto the backs oif the horses they arrived on head through the town with much haste. Visible looks back at the bar, a black cloud had begun to stream out.

“Charlie, look,” yells Visible.

Charlie looks back to see the cloud breaking up into individual black birds.

“Shit. Crows.”

He raises the steam gun and points it to the cloud and pulls the trigger. The same emission spews forth cutting a hole into the cloud and littering the ground black.

“Vis, just go, don’t look back.”


Something Sick For the Rest of You

“Watch this…Hey Johnson!”


“You go to baby molesters anonymous yet?”

“It was a one-time thing!”


“What was that all about?”

“Johnson molested some like twelve year old or something, thinks because he only did it once and has not done it again, yet, that he’s fit to be a normal everyday ding-dong how do you do citizen of the free world.”

“Doesn’t he have to register or something?”

“Yeah, had to go door to door telling everyone how he’s a sick fucker with a lust fer yungin’s. However, he adds how it was a sick disease that has been cured by a newfound love fer the lord above, like that’s a saving grace. I mean shit, like a holy man has never touched a yungin.”

“I just don’t get it, how can this be tolerated?”


“That that ped is in here eating, drinking, look he’s chatting it up with that guy, someone’s father, I mean that dude’s got a kid…”

“Maybe he’s buttering him up, few more drinks he’s thinking, few more drinks and his son’ll be all mine, maniacal laugh.”

“I’m being serious, why isn’t there…, what am I saying? How is it that that fuck is drinking with us, not drinking with us in the literal sense, but in the same vicinity, the same building, the same continent that isn’t overrun with cannibals, which doesn’t matter because cannibals have more class than to eat a ped.”

“On the other hand, maybe cannibals don’t have that much class, maybe it’s that they think if they eat a ped than they will absorb that ped’s soul and become a freakin’ ped themselves.”

“Or maybe they don’t wanna eat some dude who has a twelve year old’s cum in their stomach.”

“That’s pushing this conversation a little too far.”

“Look, I don’t want to have this freakin’ conversation. We wouldn’t be having this conversation if the world we lived in would punish those who deserved it.”

“You mean Johnson.”

“Fuck yeah I mean Johnson. He should be in jail getting fucked in the ass by some spic drug runner.”

“Are you holding back something? Are there some repressed feelings at work here? Was there a family member that was just a little too friendly when you were a wee one?”

“No, I wasn’t molested as a child. This is just a matter of decency. We live in a world that worries too much about what might happen and forgets about what has happened. We’ll make up a war to prevent something from happening, but we’ll release criminals who have committed acts of cruelty amongst our fellow man. And they’re not reformed. As soon as they get out they look fer that next child to touch, that next lady to force themselves upon, that next homosexual to beat three inches from death. There’s a difference between thinking something and committing something. You can think all you want to. It’s just a thought. People think all the time about killing that hateful boss. But it never comes to fruition. But committing that act, there’s no going back. You’ve tested those waters and the swimming’s a good time you’ve never experienced before. And believe me there will come a time when the water gets just a little too tempting, be it a hot day or you’re just looking fer some exercise. But you’ll jump in and swim till your heart’s content.”

“Well since you’re mister high and mighty go do something about it. You can talk the talk, it is just talk right? But can you make a difference? If you’re gonna sit here and blabber this is bad, this is not the way it should be and shit. Stand up! Fight fer your rights! Show the world that you are one hundred percent male. That you eat pussy fer a reason, so it doesn’t eat you.”

“This isn’t a joke.”

“I’m not fucking laughing Nicholas.”

“Then what the hell are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re no different from anyone else. You have this, let’s call it a map, a topographical map, and in the valleys are the indigents of the world, the criminals, the “gangsta” blacks, hell maybe all the blacks. In the plains you have the Mexicans, cause your white ass isn’t gonna plow the fields. On the hills, you have the Asians, you don’t care if they live or die, you just want to fuck their women. Last of all you have the all mighty white man, standing tall on the highest of peaks, not a care in the world except those rare times you have to venture to the valley. You do live in that paranoid world where all black men are gonna rape a white woman, right? I’ve seen you, a black man passes you by, you grab your ass making sure your wallet’s still there.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You wanna talk shit, say that person’s bad for this and that reason. However, you don’t see. You’re a scared little turtle; you’ll come out of your shell to badmouth someone to your friends. You can’t speak your mind when they’re around, no, at that moment you’re pissing your pants with your mouth clamped shut.”

“None of this matters anymore. Look, he’s leaving. We can go back to our normal lives.”

“If that’s what you want to do. Go on with your normal life little turtle. Just think that in the time it took us to have this conversation you could’ve done something. But instead you wanted to sit here arguing with me about who knows what.”

“Whatever. One more drink and of I’m out of here.”

“Goodnight little turtle.”