Out Phrom Under the Sanktitty of Fourgottin Wurds (Part 1)


October 2, 2004 was the day it happened. I was eating a sausage, a pickle, two types of cheese; swiss and…crap what was it….


“Don’t even do that, don’t you make an appearance yet. I have to build up the suspense, get the audience worked up for you.”

(Everyone has a me so you are trying to be mysterious about something that the audience already knows about. That’s poor storytelling. Besides you were about to tell everyone about me…screw it…I’m his soul. I can talk. So, there. Ruined your surprise. But wait, they already knew this because their soul can talk. Book over.)

“You’re an asshole.”


“Actually. Just let me tell my story the way I want to tell my story. Not everyone’s story is the same. Yes, they have annoying voices inside them, but, we’re kind of special.”

(The night rang out in a thunder clap that could’ve awoken the Gods. Luis sat with his thumb in his rear as he did every night waiting like a crow in a corn field for just the right moment to strike at life and make it meaningful. The light emitting from the computer screen turned his pale face a mirage of pleasant colors making it the one time in his life that you would not be disgusted in giving it a glance…)

“Harty har…lets make fun of me why don’t you.”

(Better beginning than you had.)

“Screw this…I’m starting over and without you butting in. Now…start chapter two.”

(That’s not how this works.)

“Don’t make me…


The night rang out in a thunder clap that could’ve awoken the Gods.



(Stooping to plagiarism?)

“You never published that.”

(Try again. I swear, if you do it right I won’t butt in.)


(Would I lie?)


(Well I’m not this time.)



I remember being a child and my mother trying to explain to me what a soul is. I was confused, thought she was a little crazy and tried to figure out why the woman that gave birth to me was playing this kooky trick on me. I remember asking:

“Mom you love me right?”

“Of course I love you.”

“Then why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not lying my darling Luis.”

“You just told me someone lives inside me and I don’t feel anyone living inside me so you have to be lying cause you are not telling the truth but you told me that not telling the truth is called lying so were you lying then as well?”

“Sweetie, it’s not like that.”

“That’s what you said.”

And it went on like this for a really long time. I have to thank my mother sometime for being so patient with my six year old self. I would’ve choked him/me/whatever. She just sat there with that heavenly smile. Knowing one day I would have all my answers. I got them. Fifteen years later.

October 2, 2004 I was eating lunch with a girl I had been seeing pretty regularly. Just eating, talking, looking at each other in that goofy way young love does.

“…the girl gets raped by a tree,” she says.

“That kind of thing happens when you summon demons.”

“Don’t you find it grotesque? I mean who comes up with that kind of shit anyway?”

“It’s a horror movie. Grotesque is its nature. What do expect from a movie titled “The Evil Dead”? Gummy bears rising from graves and smothering you in rubbery, sticky hugs?”

“I expect stupid people running around getting killed. Not raped by trees.”

“You think that’s bad, how about “Steel Magnolias”? Julia Roberts dies. Leaves her children motherless. The guy from “Picket Fences” has to raise his children all alone. On a daily basis he has to explain to them that their mother is never coming back. That they are stuck with him and his burly mustache. Fast forward a few years. Dad’s a drunk, lost his job. Can’t recover from the loss of his one true love. His bratty children run amuck screwing the slutty forty year old neighbor who lures teen boys with her fake boobs and nude sunbathing. All have served jail time and can’t get a decent job for their criminal records. They become homeless maybe addicted to whatever drug they can get their hands on by offering sexual favors to those willing. They die horrible deaths from drugs, disease, whatever. Now you tell me what’s more grotesque…one tree rape or years of human suffering all because Julia Roberts couldn’t get her insulin right or something like that.”

“You are ridiculous.”

“You are not the first to say that.”

“But you’re cute so, you take the good with the bad.”

I sat back in my chair and smiled. She smiled back.

(She’s cute.)

“Are you alright?” she asks referring to my instantaneous freak out from hearing a voice in my head.

(Dude, chill. You’re freaking her out.)

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

“There is someone talking to me. Said you were cute.”

(You just blew this. Great job. That’s not a look of confusion on her face. That’s horror. I think she’s going to run.)

“I didn’t hear that. Everything okay over there?”

At that moment she gave me the same look I was probably giving her. I looked around the food court of the mall we were sitting in. Confusion everywhere. A woman screamed and dropped her new purchases not thinking twice about them. This was the day our souls came to life. The day no one’s life would ever be the same.


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