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| This place needs me. It needs something. by mrs. johnson 07/20/2004, 2:45pm PDT | ||||
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| Written so the ghost of caltrops past does not die along with the rot within our souls.
The following event took place on August 14, 2004 in Chicago, within the Untied States of America. I sat, lunching with Perez Jorge Fintos and Doug Oswaldo, on a patio outside a local restaurant. The heat was tempered with Chicago’s famous winds, but our skin was still moist to the touch. We discussed a possible correlation between weather patterns and the moon’s movements, with Oswaldo and I doing most of the taking, as always. The suburbs swayed around us, sounds of distant children being violent wafted through the air like a fume. I felt at ease, slightly concerned about my impending wisdom teeth, but well within a familiar comfort zone. Afterwards, Oswaldo drove off to work and I began to walk Fintos home. When we reached his house, he invited me in. The thought of a well air conditioned house enticed me and I went inside. Sitting in his sparse living room, Perez tore off his face and turned me into a turnip. He then finely diced me up and used me as stuffing for a mammoth turkey that had was already in the oven when we entered the house. The smell assaulted me, but I shrugged it off. Time passed. Perez ate the entire turkey, still sans face, slobbering all over his kitchen table. He ate all of the stuffing, very quickly, barely chewing, and then put his face back on and sat down to watch television. Within his stomach I witnessed few things well lit enough to see, but I faded slowly out of consciousness and reawoke as a bird. Familiar surroundings accosted me, and a pale hunger. I flew around, ate worms and crickets and examined my surroundings. This was my old neighborhood. There was the pool. There, behind the statue, sat city hall. It was all fine. Which was fine with me. I flew to my house and waited. Nobody came in or out for two days, and there was nothing in the windows. I flew over to Perez’s house. I waited patiently for him to come out and then I took a shit on his head. He wiped it off sadly and proceeded on. With glory in my wings and time on my side, I witnessed Perez dying eventually of old age. the mrs.? |
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This place needs me. It needs something. by 07/20/2004, 2:45pm PDT  We find our songs, in fashion magazines, by 07/20/2004, 4:31pm PDT Why was this forum REALLY ever created? Who would really need it? NT by 07/20/2004, 11:32pm PDT Zseni wanted it. NT by 07/20/2004, 11:51pm PDT So why was it created? NT by 07/21/2004, 1:40am PDT It was the beginning of Caltrops. Every idea was looked upon with hope. NT by 07/21/2004, 3:15am PDT OUR FIRST MISTAKE NT by 07/21/2004, 4:09am PDT Frankly, I like the blue. NT by 07/21/2004, 4:20am PDT I wanted to use Monty's stellar pun as a forum name NT by 07/21/2004, 2:55pm PDT but Tseni is a cunt NT by 07/21/2004, 3:22am PDT |
