just a random exercise probably brought on by ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’

Excuses are for little old ladies, little old ladies with holes in their panties and sex in their vaginas. I won’t give you a weepy eyed story about how my life oozed out of a crevice until it finally stopped to crust over. I won’t tell you about death or life, or how it was all a mistake. I won’t hear you say, Oh Poor You. You Get A Free Ticket. Life isn’t a piece of chocolate, and I won’t eat it that way. I’ll eat it like a two dollar meal in an old cafeteria. I’ll pick my way through the mystery meat, then take a bite of the day old carrot cake, and I’ll finally settle on the milk and mashed potatoes. It’s bearable, it’s affordable, and it only leaves you half as hungry as when you came in. The only thing missing is the satisfaction of a full, tasty meal. I won’t bore you with life.

But Gaddammit, life and death are the only thing I can seem to talk about. It’s the only thing I’ve ever known, after all. That, and excuses. But I’ll tell you one thing, you never heard those excuses from me. I got tired enough hearing them out of everyone else’s mouses. I might’ve had to turn around and punch myself in the face if I caught myself giving one of those half-assed excuses not worth a damn. A waste of breath, that’s what they are, that and small talk. I went around punching anyone in the jaw who tried to get near me with one of those damned excuses or small talk. I would do more than punch them if I could, but I suppose it’s a way of life for those types of people. It’s a way of being. It’s safe, being boring, that is. It’s safe being safe, if you’ve ever heard of such a phrase being used.

I don’t have a problem with life, honest, I don’t. We just don’t get along, that’s all. I’m not gonna hold it against anyone I don’t agree with, disagreements can’t be helped. Sometimes people just don’t fit up, they aren’t the right puzzle piece. And that’s what life is, life is a puzzle and a person with a heck of a good sense of humor. Death on the other hand, he’s pretty serious. He and I, it’s not a matter of getting along or not. It’s more a matter if getting stuck in the same room a lot. I don’t hold it against the guy.

You can imagine, with all my hitting and slapping of people’s faces, I don’t function too well in society. Out of society, though, no one ever heard of a better citizen. I went around breaking jobs for a while, making the bosses crazy, and the workers, too. Well GEE I Uh…I Just Had So Much Work-BAM. Punch them right in the square center of their face. And You should see the look on their surprised little faces, like someone just stuck a finger up their ass. So I found a nice little work town on the outskirts of everything. Almost brought a tear to my eye, when I arrived in the train station and no one was talking. There was just a girl crying against some man’s chest, two old men sitting around waiting to unload the train, and a goofy kid with them.

(… this is where I fell asleep, but I may continue it some other day)

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