Garrison Kelly's Blog, page 11
April 22, 2023
The Frowning Quokka
VERSE 1
A species of animal that was born to smile
Quokkas got fur and a whole lot of style
Lined up like chess pieces for their photo op
Here comes the flash bulbs and the crowd pop
Nothing could go wrong in the land of ear scratches
There’s no fine print and there are no catches
Rub their fuzzy bellies and feed them cherry pie
Laugh and have fun, ‘cause it’s a heavenly high
VERSE 2
But there’s always one who’s having a bad time
With a face sourer than a lemon and lime
Because he was different, he was made the villain
Gave seniors heart attacks, scared away the children
Nobody asked him if he was feeling alright
They assumed he was toxic like a pandemic blight
The frowning quokka had opinions of his own
But it’s hard to tell the story with a burned out tone
VERSE 3
While his smiling brethren danced on without him
He sat in the darkness playing music so grim
The tears wouldn’t come, because they’re not manly
Only the freaks could do it, they’re already uncanny
Remembering a childhood of leather belt beatings
A horny ex-wife who he divorced for cheating
A lifetime of pets that have crossed the Rainbow Bridge
Stress-eating every meal like he had an endless fridge
VERSE 4
Life is always easy when there’s someone to talk to
But instead there’s an army of strangers to mock you
“You look like you’ve got a bug stuck in your ass
You look like you’ve got a giant food baby to pass
You’ve got Small Dick Energy for years on end”
And then they wonder why you don’t want to pretend
That everything is okay in your fiery underworld
Got your finger on the trigger, never leave it uncurled
BRIDGE
Bang, bang! Now they’re going to die!
Bang, bang! And they still wonder why!
Bang, bang! Quokka genocide, bitch!
Bang, bang! Leave them all in a ditch!
Boohoo! Now there’s no turning back!
Boohoo! Put a clip in your mag!
Boohoo! Now you know what to do!
Say goodbye to a world that you never knew!
Bang, bang!
A species of animal that was born to smile
Quokkas got fur and a whole lot of style
Lined up like chess pieces for their photo op
Here comes the flash bulbs and the crowd pop
Nothing could go wrong in the land of ear scratches
There’s no fine print and there are no catches
Rub their fuzzy bellies and feed them cherry pie
Laugh and have fun, ‘cause it’s a heavenly high
VERSE 2
But there’s always one who’s having a bad time
With a face sourer than a lemon and lime
Because he was different, he was made the villain
Gave seniors heart attacks, scared away the children
Nobody asked him if he was feeling alright
They assumed he was toxic like a pandemic blight
The frowning quokka had opinions of his own
But it’s hard to tell the story with a burned out tone
VERSE 3
While his smiling brethren danced on without him
He sat in the darkness playing music so grim
The tears wouldn’t come, because they’re not manly
Only the freaks could do it, they’re already uncanny
Remembering a childhood of leather belt beatings
A horny ex-wife who he divorced for cheating
A lifetime of pets that have crossed the Rainbow Bridge
Stress-eating every meal like he had an endless fridge
VERSE 4
Life is always easy when there’s someone to talk to
But instead there’s an army of strangers to mock you
“You look like you’ve got a bug stuck in your ass
You look like you’ve got a giant food baby to pass
You’ve got Small Dick Energy for years on end”
And then they wonder why you don’t want to pretend
That everything is okay in your fiery underworld
Got your finger on the trigger, never leave it uncurled
BRIDGE
Bang, bang! Now they’re going to die!
Bang, bang! And they still wonder why!
Bang, bang! Quokka genocide, bitch!
Bang, bang! Leave them all in a ditch!
Boohoo! Now there’s no turning back!
Boohoo! Put a clip in your mag!
Boohoo! Now you know what to do!
Say goodbye to a world that you never knew!
Bang, bang!
April 2, 2023
Rainbow Ranch, Prologue
Loki repeatedly slurped his canine tongue across Razor Ripley’s bony toes, half-expecting them to taste like they used to have meat on them. Even that was better tasting than the dried kibble in his metal bowl. What the brown and black Labrador really wanted was some scratches behind his ears and maybe a few rubs of his belly. Ripley certainly had the sharp nails on his fingers to achieve such a blissful massage.
But this was far from the night to be asking his master for love and affection. The skeletal necromancer’s mind was somewhere else, far away from the borders of Rainbow Ranch. The same thing could be said about the king sitting across from him at the chess table. The stone pieces hadn’t moved in what seemed like ages. These two lovers of doggies everywhere were growing old sitting in these wooden chairs. Then again, growing old explained the presence of most of the “clients” in this funeral home. Loki curled up against Razor Ripley’s sandaled feet to provide him with warmth, but it was his heart and soul that needed warmth the most.
“I’m growing impatient,” growled Ripley, gesturing with his skeletal fingers for King James Gaines to move one of his pieces.
“I’m sorry, Ripley. I can’t focus tonight.” King James squeezed his temples with his gauntlet-covered hand. “It’s hard to get anything done these days knowing my brother is in that coffin.” He jerked his thumb to the next room, the temporary resting place of his younger brother Harrison. He wiped the wetness from his eye and breathed a sigh.
“I understand where you’re coming from, my liege. But your brother made his decision a long time ago. He couldn’t let go of his obsession with revenge, even though our animal friends already did. He made them human-like, for god’s sake. It was never the mission of Rainbow Ranch to give these poor creatures human responsibilities. Harrison made a grave mistake. I’d say he has to live with it, but he’s clearly not doing a whole lot of living.”
“I know. Trust me, Ripley, I know. I just wish things could have been different. Maybe if I convinced him to seek help for his madness…Look…it doesn’t change the fact that I still miss him. He’s my brother. This is not the same man I grew up with. He was hurting.”
Razor Ripley placed his hand over King James’s and spoke in a much more sympathetic tone. “I miss Harrison too. But he has changed so much over the years that he’s hardly recognizable. It’s time to let his spirit go to the next world. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have the Shut Up Stupid Dogs primed and ready.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call them that, Ripley.”
Loki finally got his desired pettings upon sniffing Ripley’s robed crotch. But there was something off about his master’s strokes. They didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like true affection. Loki whined before stumbling off to the nearby wall and laying down in a donut circle.
Ripley continued. “I call them that, because that’s what they respond to. They don’t seem to mind.”
“I know, but it just feels…wrong.”
“If it pleases your majesty, I’ll ponder another name shortly. But for now, this is what my squadron of soldiers will be called. Do you wish to forfeit this game of chess?”
King James nodded and languidly knocked over the stone pieces before Ripley began disassembling the board. Loki’s eyes grew sore as he watched his masters in this much pain. The death of King Harrison hit them like a war hammer to the gut. Loki could hardly blame them for their slow zombie-like movements, but the Labrador still wanted his love and affection. He still wanted to be called a good boy. But in that regard, he was glad he was never made human-like by Harrison’s magic and called a Shut Up Stupid Dog by the bony wizard who was supposed to love him. Loki whined and whimpered as his masters shuffled out of the lobby, presumably back to the castle to deal with the logistics of Harrison’s funeral.
Loki could just lie there all night and let his puppy soul drift away into the universe. Maybe somewhere out in the stars, he could hear Harrison’s voice calling him over for the pettings he wanted. Maybe Harrison would have a sausage link ready to wolf down in a matter of seconds. If dogs could purr, these thoughts would get Loki’s throat motor running. Maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than a couple of royals whose minds were somewhere else. Loki knew they wouldn’t be like that forever, but why did this cycle of grieving have to take so long?
“Loki!” said a sinister throaty voice that only the funeral home dog could hear. His head perked right up and he looked everywhere. “Loki! Loki-Pokey! Loki J. Pokicus! Sweet gee-nee baby!” There was only one person the dog knew of who would use such a hideous, yet endearing baby voice. But it couldn’t be him. He was dead! Ozzie the Wise made sure of that with a storm of lightning bolts! Loki whined and wailed as the hypnotic voice from beyond continued to haunt his mind.
“Loki-Pokey! Into the coffin room, Loki! I have a treat for you! Come get some din-din!”
The dog pranced and galloped into the coffin room where Harrison’s body was being kept. There it was among rows of beautiful pink wildflowers. There it was among stands of burned out candles. There it was smelling of death and fried meat: Harrison’s corpse resting in a golden casket. He wasn’t moving. He gave no indication that he was alive. But that voice was unmistakable. That grizzly-bear-like voice that was reserved for the sweetest of animals. “Come to me, Loki! Eat something other than dried food!”
Could Loki do it? Did he dare do such a thing to Harrison’s corpse? Yes, he was a dead body that should never have been violated…but his burned flesh reminded Loki of strips of bacon. The saltiness made him drool. The fattiness made him pant and smile. He had stars in his eyes the likes a depressed necromancer and king had never seen before. Could he do it? Loki slowly approached the casket licking his lips. He sniffed Harrison’s burned skin. Oh, that salty stench that only grew more powerful with the increasing loudness in Loki’s head.
He took a bite of crispy bacon flesh. He swallowed it down in a rush. He took another bite. And another. And another. This desecrating act soon turned into a god-like feast. Loki couldn’t stop eating. The meat was so delicious and tender, so crispy and salty, so juicy and fatty. It didn’t take long at all for Harrison’s corpse to be reduced to an empty shell of black bones. For good measure and good flavor, Loki licked the bones clean until their savory benefits were gone. The dog’s tummy was fatter than a hot air balloon. His colon was gassier than industrial smoke.
But more importantly, Loki’s eyes were brighter than Ozzie the Wise’s lightning spells could ever be. The eyes glows bright green while the light in the back of his throat projected red energy. Loki convulsed and twisted, rolling around on the carpeted floor and knocking over some of the flowers and candles. He also knocked over a sacred religious tome that Razor Ripley kept for such occasions. His stomach bulged and his anus blasted.
A shield of thunder enveloped Loki’s body until he had become just like any other experiment Harrison worked on: human-like. His body was no longer his own. His thoughts were at the mercy of spiritual puppet strings. The voice in Loki’s head grew louder until it was the only thought he had. The disgraced King Harrison Gaines had complete control of Loki’s body. He was alive and well once again, back from the dead and hungry for the vengeance he wished the animal society had earlier.
“Loki…you are my vessel…you are my slave…you will do what my worthless human carcass couldn’t do the first time around. You will kill Ozzie the Wise…and you will kill anybody who hurts our cause, whether they come from within Rainbow Ranch or far beyond. You will use my magic. You will obey my commands. And if you’re a good boy…I will give you all the love and affection you deserve in the afterlife!”
Harrison’s wicked laughter echoed throughout Loki’s acid-washed mind, but also blasted out of the dog’s mouth along with drool and magical energy. Vengeance would come whether James and Ripley wanted it to or not. That would go double for the “weak” animals who were “too lazy” to find their own justice after being abandoned on this island.
But this was far from the night to be asking his master for love and affection. The skeletal necromancer’s mind was somewhere else, far away from the borders of Rainbow Ranch. The same thing could be said about the king sitting across from him at the chess table. The stone pieces hadn’t moved in what seemed like ages. These two lovers of doggies everywhere were growing old sitting in these wooden chairs. Then again, growing old explained the presence of most of the “clients” in this funeral home. Loki curled up against Razor Ripley’s sandaled feet to provide him with warmth, but it was his heart and soul that needed warmth the most.
“I’m growing impatient,” growled Ripley, gesturing with his skeletal fingers for King James Gaines to move one of his pieces.
“I’m sorry, Ripley. I can’t focus tonight.” King James squeezed his temples with his gauntlet-covered hand. “It’s hard to get anything done these days knowing my brother is in that coffin.” He jerked his thumb to the next room, the temporary resting place of his younger brother Harrison. He wiped the wetness from his eye and breathed a sigh.
“I understand where you’re coming from, my liege. But your brother made his decision a long time ago. He couldn’t let go of his obsession with revenge, even though our animal friends already did. He made them human-like, for god’s sake. It was never the mission of Rainbow Ranch to give these poor creatures human responsibilities. Harrison made a grave mistake. I’d say he has to live with it, but he’s clearly not doing a whole lot of living.”
“I know. Trust me, Ripley, I know. I just wish things could have been different. Maybe if I convinced him to seek help for his madness…Look…it doesn’t change the fact that I still miss him. He’s my brother. This is not the same man I grew up with. He was hurting.”
Razor Ripley placed his hand over King James’s and spoke in a much more sympathetic tone. “I miss Harrison too. But he has changed so much over the years that he’s hardly recognizable. It’s time to let his spirit go to the next world. The funeral is tomorrow. I’ll have the Shut Up Stupid Dogs primed and ready.”
“I really wish you wouldn’t call them that, Ripley.”
Loki finally got his desired pettings upon sniffing Ripley’s robed crotch. But there was something off about his master’s strokes. They didn’t feel right. They didn’t feel like true affection. Loki whined before stumbling off to the nearby wall and laying down in a donut circle.
Ripley continued. “I call them that, because that’s what they respond to. They don’t seem to mind.”
“I know, but it just feels…wrong.”
“If it pleases your majesty, I’ll ponder another name shortly. But for now, this is what my squadron of soldiers will be called. Do you wish to forfeit this game of chess?”
King James nodded and languidly knocked over the stone pieces before Ripley began disassembling the board. Loki’s eyes grew sore as he watched his masters in this much pain. The death of King Harrison hit them like a war hammer to the gut. Loki could hardly blame them for their slow zombie-like movements, but the Labrador still wanted his love and affection. He still wanted to be called a good boy. But in that regard, he was glad he was never made human-like by Harrison’s magic and called a Shut Up Stupid Dog by the bony wizard who was supposed to love him. Loki whined and whimpered as his masters shuffled out of the lobby, presumably back to the castle to deal with the logistics of Harrison’s funeral.
Loki could just lie there all night and let his puppy soul drift away into the universe. Maybe somewhere out in the stars, he could hear Harrison’s voice calling him over for the pettings he wanted. Maybe Harrison would have a sausage link ready to wolf down in a matter of seconds. If dogs could purr, these thoughts would get Loki’s throat motor running. Maybe the dream world would be kinder to him than a couple of royals whose minds were somewhere else. Loki knew they wouldn’t be like that forever, but why did this cycle of grieving have to take so long?
“Loki!” said a sinister throaty voice that only the funeral home dog could hear. His head perked right up and he looked everywhere. “Loki! Loki-Pokey! Loki J. Pokicus! Sweet gee-nee baby!” There was only one person the dog knew of who would use such a hideous, yet endearing baby voice. But it couldn’t be him. He was dead! Ozzie the Wise made sure of that with a storm of lightning bolts! Loki whined and wailed as the hypnotic voice from beyond continued to haunt his mind.
“Loki-Pokey! Into the coffin room, Loki! I have a treat for you! Come get some din-din!”
The dog pranced and galloped into the coffin room where Harrison’s body was being kept. There it was among rows of beautiful pink wildflowers. There it was among stands of burned out candles. There it was smelling of death and fried meat: Harrison’s corpse resting in a golden casket. He wasn’t moving. He gave no indication that he was alive. But that voice was unmistakable. That grizzly-bear-like voice that was reserved for the sweetest of animals. “Come to me, Loki! Eat something other than dried food!”
Could Loki do it? Did he dare do such a thing to Harrison’s corpse? Yes, he was a dead body that should never have been violated…but his burned flesh reminded Loki of strips of bacon. The saltiness made him drool. The fattiness made him pant and smile. He had stars in his eyes the likes a depressed necromancer and king had never seen before. Could he do it? Loki slowly approached the casket licking his lips. He sniffed Harrison’s burned skin. Oh, that salty stench that only grew more powerful with the increasing loudness in Loki’s head.
He took a bite of crispy bacon flesh. He swallowed it down in a rush. He took another bite. And another. And another. This desecrating act soon turned into a god-like feast. Loki couldn’t stop eating. The meat was so delicious and tender, so crispy and salty, so juicy and fatty. It didn’t take long at all for Harrison’s corpse to be reduced to an empty shell of black bones. For good measure and good flavor, Loki licked the bones clean until their savory benefits were gone. The dog’s tummy was fatter than a hot air balloon. His colon was gassier than industrial smoke.
But more importantly, Loki’s eyes were brighter than Ozzie the Wise’s lightning spells could ever be. The eyes glows bright green while the light in the back of his throat projected red energy. Loki convulsed and twisted, rolling around on the carpeted floor and knocking over some of the flowers and candles. He also knocked over a sacred religious tome that Razor Ripley kept for such occasions. His stomach bulged and his anus blasted.
A shield of thunder enveloped Loki’s body until he had become just like any other experiment Harrison worked on: human-like. His body was no longer his own. His thoughts were at the mercy of spiritual puppet strings. The voice in Loki’s head grew louder until it was the only thought he had. The disgraced King Harrison Gaines had complete control of Loki’s body. He was alive and well once again, back from the dead and hungry for the vengeance he wished the animal society had earlier.
“Loki…you are my vessel…you are my slave…you will do what my worthless human carcass couldn’t do the first time around. You will kill Ozzie the Wise…and you will kill anybody who hurts our cause, whether they come from within Rainbow Ranch or far beyond. You will use my magic. You will obey my commands. And if you’re a good boy…I will give you all the love and affection you deserve in the afterlife!”
Harrison’s wicked laughter echoed throughout Loki’s acid-washed mind, but also blasted out of the dog’s mouth along with drool and magical energy. Vengeance would come whether James and Ripley wanted it to or not. That would go double for the “weak” animals who were “too lazy” to find their own justice after being abandoned on this island.
Disconnect and Float Away
VERSE 1
Could’ve been an actor, but they never wanted me
They’d rather have a boy who doesn’t cry about sodomy
Instead of wildflowers and an Oscar or two
I dissociate and watch with a panoramic view
Let someone else fuck with the flying shield
Let Leo the Lion nip at someone else’s heels
Let the circle-eared mouse be the Speaker of the House
Let me wear a straightjacket, let them call it a blouse
CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
VERSE 2
I hear the bootstrap rhetoric through a megaphone
But I dissociate in the comfort of my own home
Out of body experience, so I ain’t hearing this
Can’t buy a plane ticket, so it ain’t mysterious
A dick-shaped rocket can’t take me away from the discourse
Still get pissed on by the king and his horse
Send my brain into space, in a far away place
Where supernovas burn like a face full of mace
CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
BRIDGE
Took a massive vacation from the deaths and inflation
Now the work has piled up like a crash in a train station
I could put it off until the end of my days
As long as someone else suffers and someone else pays
EXTENDED CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
Disconnect and fly to the sun
For the time I’ve been given, it’s sure been fun
Come back to the earth, it’s a prison furlough
Freedom was nice, but I still hurt, though
Could’ve been an actor, but they never wanted me
They’d rather have a boy who doesn’t cry about sodomy
Instead of wildflowers and an Oscar or two
I dissociate and watch with a panoramic view
Let someone else fuck with the flying shield
Let Leo the Lion nip at someone else’s heels
Let the circle-eared mouse be the Speaker of the House
Let me wear a straightjacket, let them call it a blouse
CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
VERSE 2
I hear the bootstrap rhetoric through a megaphone
But I dissociate in the comfort of my own home
Out of body experience, so I ain’t hearing this
Can’t buy a plane ticket, so it ain’t mysterious
A dick-shaped rocket can’t take me away from the discourse
Still get pissed on by the king and his horse
Send my brain into space, in a far away place
Where supernovas burn like a face full of mace
CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
BRIDGE
Took a massive vacation from the deaths and inflation
Now the work has piled up like a crash in a train station
I could put it off until the end of my days
As long as someone else suffers and someone else pays
EXTENDED CHORUS
Disconnect and float away
Fly to the same god in which you pray
Gravity may be a matter of physics
But crashing on your face is a matter of civics
Disconnect and fly to the sun
For the time I’ve been given, it’s sure been fun
Come back to the earth, it’s a prison furlough
Freedom was nice, but I still hurt, though
March 17, 2023
Barbarian Tears
When the demon inside reaches postmortem status
When the time comes to lay down your blood-soaked axes
When your war cry to the heavens is only a whimper
When your tree-trunk legs get limper and limper
Let the river of salt flow freely from your eyes
Let your inner war hammer crush Manosphere lies
Let your war-torn soul cycle through the emotions
So you don’t live day to day going through the motions
There’s nothing wrong with crying, regardless of gender
When you’ve spent so long being the strongest protector
When your deadliest attackers pass the gates of hell
When the smell of death leaves you nauseous and unwell
There’s no such thing as never-ending strength
There’s no such thing as a limited time length
When the burden you carry lives on forever
Unleash the thunderstorms and waterfall weather
The monsters and tyrants will laugh as much as they want
Even they have empty souls behind the violence they flaunt
Someday they will learn what vulnerability means
Even if their abusers never passed on those genes
Nobody leaves this life without a festering wound
That eats away at the flesh before they enter the tomb
That eats away at the mind like disease-carrying rats
The scars never get better, they only grow fat
Don’t take your pain to the other side of life
Don’t bottle the trauma that cuts like a knife
Your tears will grow the most beautiful plants
Leave behind a greener world when others can’t
You won’t be remembered as a laughing stock jester
But they’ll be remembered as angel molesters
You’ll be treated like a god for generations to come
Leave a legacy of love with your trail of blood
When the time comes to lay down your blood-soaked axes
When your war cry to the heavens is only a whimper
When your tree-trunk legs get limper and limper
Let the river of salt flow freely from your eyes
Let your inner war hammer crush Manosphere lies
Let your war-torn soul cycle through the emotions
So you don’t live day to day going through the motions
There’s nothing wrong with crying, regardless of gender
When you’ve spent so long being the strongest protector
When your deadliest attackers pass the gates of hell
When the smell of death leaves you nauseous and unwell
There’s no such thing as never-ending strength
There’s no such thing as a limited time length
When the burden you carry lives on forever
Unleash the thunderstorms and waterfall weather
The monsters and tyrants will laugh as much as they want
Even they have empty souls behind the violence they flaunt
Someday they will learn what vulnerability means
Even if their abusers never passed on those genes
Nobody leaves this life without a festering wound
That eats away at the flesh before they enter the tomb
That eats away at the mind like disease-carrying rats
The scars never get better, they only grow fat
Don’t take your pain to the other side of life
Don’t bottle the trauma that cuts like a knife
Your tears will grow the most beautiful plants
Leave behind a greener world when others can’t
You won’t be remembered as a laughing stock jester
But they’ll be remembered as angel molesters
You’ll be treated like a god for generations to come
Leave a legacy of love with your trail of blood
March 2, 2023
Bend the Knee
VERSE 1
Get ready to bend the knee to King Petty
Your legs already feel like a piece of spaghetti
You live in my head, now it’s time to pay rent
I don’t care if you can’t afford to eat again
Blow you out my nose like I’m allergic to pollen
Blow you out my ass, it ain’t coming out solid
Which one is more tyrannical: a landlord or a king?
Depends on if your begging even means a thing
CHORUS 1
Bend the knee!
Bow to me!
Take my heed!
Or else you bleed!
VERSE 2
My storybook soldiers are always so loyal
Your graves are soil for the mighty and royal
Grow the tree of woe, put you in the Jesus pose
Drive spikes in your feet, bleed all over your toes
Drive spikes in your hands, quit jerking yourself
Leaving you to die is good for my health
“King Petty, King Petty, will you show me mercy?”
Hell to the no, your blood makes me thirsty
CHORUS 2
Bend the knee!
I ignore your plea!
Are you shitting me?!
You’re still guilty!
VERSE 3
All I want to do is slam dance to my music
All you want to do is blow my dynamite fuses
All I want to do is write my violent stories
All you want to do is leech off of my glory
You demons take credit for all of my fame
As though you and I are created the same
You’re a schizophrenic voice telling me to quit
Your ass is gone after I take my morning shit
CHORUS 3
Bend the knee!
Suck up to me!
You’re still a flea!
Carrying a disease!
Brain parasite!
Fuck my dreams at night!
Bend the knee to me!
Because I’m always right!
Get ready to bend the knee to King Petty
Your legs already feel like a piece of spaghetti
You live in my head, now it’s time to pay rent
I don’t care if you can’t afford to eat again
Blow you out my nose like I’m allergic to pollen
Blow you out my ass, it ain’t coming out solid
Which one is more tyrannical: a landlord or a king?
Depends on if your begging even means a thing
CHORUS 1
Bend the knee!
Bow to me!
Take my heed!
Or else you bleed!
VERSE 2
My storybook soldiers are always so loyal
Your graves are soil for the mighty and royal
Grow the tree of woe, put you in the Jesus pose
Drive spikes in your feet, bleed all over your toes
Drive spikes in your hands, quit jerking yourself
Leaving you to die is good for my health
“King Petty, King Petty, will you show me mercy?”
Hell to the no, your blood makes me thirsty
CHORUS 2
Bend the knee!
I ignore your plea!
Are you shitting me?!
You’re still guilty!
VERSE 3
All I want to do is slam dance to my music
All you want to do is blow my dynamite fuses
All I want to do is write my violent stories
All you want to do is leech off of my glory
You demons take credit for all of my fame
As though you and I are created the same
You’re a schizophrenic voice telling me to quit
Your ass is gone after I take my morning shit
CHORUS 3
Bend the knee!
Suck up to me!
You’re still a flea!
Carrying a disease!
Brain parasite!
Fuck my dreams at night!
Bend the knee to me!
Because I’m always right!
February 16, 2023
My Heroes Are Assholes
VERSE 1
My heroes sip champagne from a sunken tub
Their sins can’t be scrubbed with bubbly-bubs
Put dark lords in boxes, I’ll give you my balls
Shoot a few foxes, you gave me The Wall
Slag off on the trans, you gave me an edge
Grab a chick’s cans, you pulled me off the ledge
Get away with murder, you gave me new life
Shame those who eat burgers, you parasocial wife
CHORUS
My heroes are assholes
It’s not worth the hassle
To get me an autograph
My heroes are bitches
They get left in stitches
Look in the mirror and laugh
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
VERSE 2
My heroes are older, now they’ve grown colder
Their hatred of young people only gets bolder
No consequences when they kick down defenses
Only Law & Order for those with poverty expenses
To all the foot soldiers, it’s called Cancel Culture
A dog whistle for the machinegun holders
There will be no justice, social or otherwise
Just another day of twisting the butterfly knife
CHORUS
My heroes are assholes
It’s not worth the hassle
To get me an autograph
My heroes are bitches
They get left in stitches
Look in the mirror and laugh
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
BRIDGE
There’s only one hero I can truly rely on
Me, myself, and I, it’s the hill I’ll die on
Others paved the way when I was a boy
I walk that road as a man without joy
FINAL LINES
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
My heroes sip champagne from a sunken tub
Their sins can’t be scrubbed with bubbly-bubs
Put dark lords in boxes, I’ll give you my balls
Shoot a few foxes, you gave me The Wall
Slag off on the trans, you gave me an edge
Grab a chick’s cans, you pulled me off the ledge
Get away with murder, you gave me new life
Shame those who eat burgers, you parasocial wife
CHORUS
My heroes are assholes
It’s not worth the hassle
To get me an autograph
My heroes are bitches
They get left in stitches
Look in the mirror and laugh
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
VERSE 2
My heroes are older, now they’ve grown colder
Their hatred of young people only gets bolder
No consequences when they kick down defenses
Only Law & Order for those with poverty expenses
To all the foot soldiers, it’s called Cancel Culture
A dog whistle for the machinegun holders
There will be no justice, social or otherwise
Just another day of twisting the butterfly knife
CHORUS
My heroes are assholes
It’s not worth the hassle
To get me an autograph
My heroes are bitches
They get left in stitches
Look in the mirror and laugh
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
BRIDGE
There’s only one hero I can truly rely on
Me, myself, and I, it’s the hill I’ll die on
Others paved the way when I was a boy
I walk that road as a man without joy
FINAL LINES
I miss the days of naivety
I miss the days of naivety
February 6, 2023
Christian Savage
=========================================
THE BASICS
=========================================
Name: Christian Savage
Nicknames: Hawk-Eye
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Birth Date: 467 AM
Birth Place: Morgan Town
Currently Living In: Shadow Asylum Headquarters
Species: Human
Ethnicity / Race: White
Citizenship: Honey Valley
Religion / Beliefs: Right-Winger
=========================================
FAMILY
=========================================
Father: Cletus Savage
Age: Dead
Relationship: Strict
Mother: Unknown Rape Victim
Age: Unknown
Relationship: Never Known
Twin Brother: Kody Savage
Age: 33
Relationship: Close-Knit
Cousin: Kyle Savage
Age: 29
Relationship: Close-Knit
=========================================
PHYSICAL FEATURES:
=========================================
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210 lbs.
Frame / Build: Athletic
Hair length: Bald
Hair color: Blackish Brown
Eye shape: Wide
Eye color: Hazel
Complexion: Dirty
Face size: Round
Voice type: Mute (but with throaty groans and grunts)
Foot size: 13 Men’s
Tattoo(s): Dagger on Forehead
Scar(s): Bruises and slashes from fighting
Other notable accessories: None
Any other identifying mark(s): Long Goatee
=========================================
SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL
=========================================
Political Affiliation: Conservative
Economic Class: Green-Collar
Social Class: Freelancer
Occupation: Mercenary
Income: Upper Class
Residence: Morgan Town
Transportation: Sometimes Horses
=========================================
INTERESTS
=========================================
Favorite Food(s): Barbecue Wings and Beer
Favorite Sport(s): Football and Cage Fighting
Favorite Book(s): None
Favorite Show(s): TV isn’t a thing yet
Favorite Music: Gongs
Favorite Color(s): Red and Black
Clothing Style / Preferences: Red Tunic, Black Pants, and Leather Boots (Shadow Asylum Uniform)
Hobbies: Pranks, Setting off Fireworks, Taxidermy, and Hunting
Role Model(s): Orpheus Rinehart
Likes: Brutality, punch-down comedy, torturing people, and bullying
Dislikes: “Pussies”, women, elves, and bad food
=========================================
PERSONALITY
=========================================
Good Qualities / Trait(s): Sadistic fighter, loyal to Rinehart, intimidating, and scary
Vices / Negative Trait(s): Mute, too destructive, easy anger, and alcoholism
Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Drooling, chewing tobacco, and spitting
Phobia / Fears: Gay people, beatings from his father, and pissing off Rinehart
Select one personality type below that best describes your character:
PROTECTORS
[X] Defender (ISFJ) – Puts the needs of others before themselves, to a point where they tend to give more than they receive. Quiet and conscientious. Modest and tends to be a spectator. They do what is expected of them without attracting attention to themselves. Sensitive to the feelings of others, and has a very good memory, especially when it comes to observing other people. Can be easily hurt. Very painstaking when it comes to detail.
Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:
a. Physically: Terrifying, off-putting, ugly on the outside and inside
b. Psychologically: Sadistic, hateful, murderous, psychotic
c. Spiritually: Hates religion
d. Emotionally: Angry and numb
e. Socially: People are afraid of him and that includes his coworkers
Others things to know:
=========================================
HISTORY
=========================================
1. Describe the character’s childhood. The sons of a nameless rape victim, Christian and Kody had toxic masculinity beaten into them at a young age, contributing to their mute and lifeless expressions. They eventually killed their own abusive father and impressed Rinehart to where he wanted to recruit them.
2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? Playing immature pranks and playing football have given them sadistic joy.
3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? The physical abuse he and Kody suffered at their father’s hands turned them into mutes. They in turn became more sadistic, hence why they killed their father.
4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are his goals at this point?
4a. Do these goals change at any point in the story? He and Kody are fighting with Tarja Rikkinen in Rinehart’s office over who gets the task of bringing Windham Xavier back to home base. The battle ends when the twins accidentally knock over Rinehart’s bookshelf full of business ledgers. Instead of joining Rinehart on his mission, they are in charge of torturing prisoners.
=========================================
STORY DEVELOPMENT:
=========================================
CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)
[X] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)
[X] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)
[X] Athlete (Olympian)
[X] Bully (Coward)
[X] Destroyer (Attila, Mad Scientist, Serial Killer, Spoiler)
[X] Threshold Guardian
[X] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)
[X] Victim
[X] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)
[X] Warrior (Soldier, Crime Fighter, Amazon, Mercenary, Soldier of Fortune, Gunslinger, Samurai)
1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? Satisfying sadistic urges and getting amusement out of it.
2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? To make money torturing and bullying people so that the twins can spend it all on beer and wings.
3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Tarja and Windham outsmart and outfight the twins just to stay alive. Their plan is to be even more frightening and sadistic than before. Rinehart’s bootstraps mentality contributes to this.
4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Christian wants to forget about his father’s abuse, but can only do so whenever he’s torturing his victims and getting those dopamine blasts.
=========================================
AUTHOR’S NOTES / MISCELLANY
=========================================
Character theme song: “Torture” by Cavalera Conspiracy
Celebrity / IRL lookalike: A more disgusting Luke Gallows
THE BASICS
=========================================
Name: Christian Savage
Nicknames: Hawk-Eye
Gender: Male
Age: 33
Birth Date: 467 AM
Birth Place: Morgan Town
Currently Living In: Shadow Asylum Headquarters
Species: Human
Ethnicity / Race: White
Citizenship: Honey Valley
Religion / Beliefs: Right-Winger
=========================================
FAMILY
=========================================
Father: Cletus Savage
Age: Dead
Relationship: Strict
Mother: Unknown Rape Victim
Age: Unknown
Relationship: Never Known
Twin Brother: Kody Savage
Age: 33
Relationship: Close-Knit
Cousin: Kyle Savage
Age: 29
Relationship: Close-Knit
=========================================
PHYSICAL FEATURES:
=========================================
Height: 6’3”
Weight: 210 lbs.
Frame / Build: Athletic
Hair length: Bald
Hair color: Blackish Brown
Eye shape: Wide
Eye color: Hazel
Complexion: Dirty
Face size: Round
Voice type: Mute (but with throaty groans and grunts)
Foot size: 13 Men’s
Tattoo(s): Dagger on Forehead
Scar(s): Bruises and slashes from fighting
Other notable accessories: None
Any other identifying mark(s): Long Goatee
=========================================
SOCIO / ECONOMIC / POLITICAL
=========================================
Political Affiliation: Conservative
Economic Class: Green-Collar
Social Class: Freelancer
Occupation: Mercenary
Income: Upper Class
Residence: Morgan Town
Transportation: Sometimes Horses
=========================================
INTERESTS
=========================================
Favorite Food(s): Barbecue Wings and Beer
Favorite Sport(s): Football and Cage Fighting
Favorite Book(s): None
Favorite Show(s): TV isn’t a thing yet
Favorite Music: Gongs
Favorite Color(s): Red and Black
Clothing Style / Preferences: Red Tunic, Black Pants, and Leather Boots (Shadow Asylum Uniform)
Hobbies: Pranks, Setting off Fireworks, Taxidermy, and Hunting
Role Model(s): Orpheus Rinehart
Likes: Brutality, punch-down comedy, torturing people, and bullying
Dislikes: “Pussies”, women, elves, and bad food
=========================================
PERSONALITY
=========================================
Good Qualities / Trait(s): Sadistic fighter, loyal to Rinehart, intimidating, and scary
Vices / Negative Trait(s): Mute, too destructive, easy anger, and alcoholism
Habits / Idiosyncrasies / Quirks: Drooling, chewing tobacco, and spitting
Phobia / Fears: Gay people, beatings from his father, and pissing off Rinehart
Select one personality type below that best describes your character:
PROTECTORS
[X] Defender (ISFJ) – Puts the needs of others before themselves, to a point where they tend to give more than they receive. Quiet and conscientious. Modest and tends to be a spectator. They do what is expected of them without attracting attention to themselves. Sensitive to the feelings of others, and has a very good memory, especially when it comes to observing other people. Can be easily hurt. Very painstaking when it comes to detail.
Define your character’s personality based on the following aspects:
a. Physically: Terrifying, off-putting, ugly on the outside and inside
b. Psychologically: Sadistic, hateful, murderous, psychotic
c. Spiritually: Hates religion
d. Emotionally: Angry and numb
e. Socially: People are afraid of him and that includes his coworkers
Others things to know:
=========================================
HISTORY
=========================================
1. Describe the character’s childhood. The sons of a nameless rape victim, Christian and Kody had toxic masculinity beaten into them at a young age, contributing to their mute and lifeless expressions. They eventually killed their own abusive father and impressed Rinehart to where he wanted to recruit them.
2. Name the good incidents that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? Playing immature pranks and playing football have given them sadistic joy.
3. Name bad experiences that have happened in the character’s life. How has this shaped his personality? The physical abuse he and Kody suffered at their father’s hands turned them into mutes. They in turn became more sadistic, hence why they killed their father.
4. What is the character doing when first introduced? What are his goals at this point?
4a. Do these goals change at any point in the story? He and Kody are fighting with Tarja Rikkinen in Rinehart’s office over who gets the task of bringing Windham Xavier back to home base. The battle ends when the twins accidentally knock over Rinehart’s bookshelf full of business ledgers. Instead of joining Rinehart on his mission, they are in charge of torturing prisoners.
=========================================
STORY DEVELOPMENT:
=========================================
CHARACTER ARCHETYPE: (Put an X on all applicable boxes)
[X] Addict (Conspicuous Consumer, Glutton, Workaholic–see also Gambler)
[X] Antagonist (Opposing View, not necessarily the Evil Bad — see also Villain)
[X] Athlete (Olympian)
[X] Bully (Coward)
[X] Destroyer (Attila, Mad Scientist, Serial Killer, Spoiler)
[X] Threshold Guardian
[X] Trickster (Puck, Provocateur)
[X] Victim
[X] Villain / Shadow (Big Bad of the story; see also Antagonist)
[X] Warrior (Soldier, Crime Fighter, Amazon, Mercenary, Soldier of Fortune, Gunslinger, Samurai)
1. What are the motivations for the character’s actions? Satisfying sadistic urges and getting amusement out of it.
2. What are the character’s goals / ambition / dreams? To make money torturing and bullying people so that the twins can spend it all on beer and wings.
3. What external conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Tarja and Windham outsmart and outfight the twins just to stay alive. Their plan is to be even more frightening and sadistic than before. Rinehart’s bootstraps mentality contributes to this.
4. What inner conflicts would you wish for the character to overcome? What are the obstacles in the character’s path that might make this difficult? Christian wants to forget about his father’s abuse, but can only do so whenever he’s torturing his victims and getting those dopamine blasts.
=========================================
AUTHOR’S NOTES / MISCELLANY
=========================================
Character theme song: “Torture” by Cavalera Conspiracy
Celebrity / IRL lookalike: A more disgusting Luke Gallows
February 4, 2023
Spit Out the Black Pill
“Woody! Unsweetened iced tea for Woody!” No response. “WOODY!”
Woody Silver snapped out of his gangsta rap induced trance long enough to pull his ear buds out and accept his drink. He did so with a nervous glance around the House of Roses and Chocolates (not a bad name for a coffee bar). He knew these people were gazing at him through figurative microscope lenses. If they adjusted the magnification, they could see his tiny ego shrivel up and die like a chopped off cock.
“What are you listening to?” asked the blond barista with the prettiest of grins.
“Uh…gangsta rap. You know, songs about shooting people in the face.”
The barista darted her eyes around as if she needed to know the nearest exit. “You like that kind of music?”
“Yeah. It’s good stuff. It’s not like I’m the one doing the shooting.”
“…Uh-huh…well, you go enjoy your violent music…Woody.”
This would have been a good time for Woody to put a sock in it and leave with at least a little bit of his shattered dignity intact. But he just HAD to make it worse and even more awkward than before. “Yeah, I get it. When someone commits murder, they blame rap music. When someone commits suicide, they blame heavy metal. Chris Benoit was probably a big fan of Rage Against the Machine.”
All eyes were on Woody now and they were large enough to crush his sense of self-worth ten times over. Whether it was the barista, the lesbian couple near the window, or the little girl and her mother not too far from him in line. After a while of allowing Woody’s anxiety to chill faster than his iced drink, the four-year-old princess said, “You fucked up.” Everyone gave a shocked laugh, though this was a pleasant kind of shock.
Woody didn’t find any of this pleasant. He robotically slumped to the nearest table with his drink, his iPhone, and his ear buds, hanging his head in shame. He wished he could be anywhere but that coffee bar. Even getting hit with a bolt of lightning and being sent to an early death seemed tamer than this incredibly public humiliation. Under his breath, he said, “If this ends up on You Tube, I’m going to be very upset…” Thankfully, nobody heard him and the target on his back didn’t grow a single centimeter.
But a metaphorical target he still had. His stomach turned and boiled and no amount of iced tea could calm his mild nausea. The whole world laughed at him and his defenses were gone. Then again, having shaggy blond hair and dirty clothing didn’t provide much in the way of defenses against scrutiny. But then he reached in his flannel jacket pocket and remembered he had a cure for all of this.
It was a small jar of black jelly beans he found on the internet. He couldn’t remember the name of the website or why these beans were advertised as medicinal. When desperation struck him like that much-wanted bolt of lightning, he didn’t ask a lot of questions. He unscrewed the lid and shoveled a handful of black jelly beans down his gullet, not even taking ample time to chew his food. Then again, choking wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him that day.
Instead, the rush of energy he got from this candy was the best thing. His hands stopped jittering. He could effortlessly pick up his sunken head. The cloudy weather outside gave way to sunshine through the windows. His iced tea tasted like magic in a cup. The women around him made his heart flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever he paid for these jelly beans was worth it. He could be broke tomorrow and die a happy man the next day, as evidenced by the blossoming smile on his face.
His newfound eye-brightening joy led him to believe he could conquer the day, one in which he previously had no schedule and no plan of any sort. He could finally talk to the barista and not be an awkward mess. He floated by the seat of his pants to the beautiful blond, who was now decked out in a light blue dress with flowers and jewels adorned everywhere. But before he could open his mouth and allow poetry to pour from his lips…
The barista twirled like a fairy princess and showed off the wedding ring on her white gloved hand. She sang in an angelic voice with the rhythm of a nee-ner-nee-ner tune, “I got married! And you can’t have me! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha!”
Woody turned towards the lesbian couple, who were now in matching dark green dresses with forest insignias printed everywhere. Their black gloved hands showed off wedding rings of their own, sparkling like incel tears. “We got married! And you can’t have us!” The same nee-ner-nee-ner tune, the same enchanting high-pitched voices.
And then the mother joined in on the fun with her purple dress, golden crown, and heavenly diamond on her finger. “I got married! And you can’t have me!”
Woody clutched his ears and tightly closed his eyes, running out of the coffee bar and leaving his drink behind. He remembered the iPhone and ear buds, though. The violent rapper’s voice was the only one he wanted to hear…until he had a female guest vocalist who jovially sang, “I got married! And you can’t have me!”
“Oh, come on!” Woody sped down the sidewalk without giving a single solitary fuck who he weirded-out along the way. He was already as small and repugnant as bacteria. He was already lower than the worms crawling beneath the park’s grassy turf. But no matter how far he ran or how many times he actually opened his eyes for a change…
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang a white dress-wearing vixen in the sweetest voice.
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang Wonder Woman in the comic book shop window.
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang a woman in jean shorts and flip-flops, also in the loveliest high-pitched voice.
“Stop it! I get your point! I get it, I get it, I get it! I’m weird! I’m stupid! Enough is enough!” shouted Woody, though his words only echoed in his head, never once giving the public a shot at hearing his opinion of their love. “Stop it!” His voice grew deeper and more demonic. “No more!” His voice had a hint of ogre-like growling. “STOP!” Except they wouldn’t stop. These impossibly beautiful women from all around closed in on him, reminding him over and over again that they were not prizes to be won by loser men like him.
“Pick up the brick!” shouted an evil bass voice from behind. The clouds grew dark once more, giving way not to a halo of sunshine, but to the brightness of hellfire. The once lovely women in their dresses turned into pitch-black monsters with razor-sharp claws and mocking goblin voices. Woody looked around to see where the original evil voice came from, but couldn’t find the source except in his own head, booming like movie theater speakers.
“The world never loved you anyways. Your parents think you’re a disgrace. Your friends think you’re dragon shit. Society wants to kill you. Pick up the brick and make them all go away. Murder every last one of those undeserving femoids. Pick up the brick, haul back, and let her ho.”
Woody’s anxious sweat quadrupled into a clay-like substance, like his skin was peeling off and revealing a more sinister side to a world that could already see his weaknesses. He gritted his teeth so hard that his gums bled black. He listened to the one voice who understood him beneath the lovey-dovey mockery. He had a mission. It was his job to smash the world into pieces with that one brick. He smiled like a villain, though his clay sweat masked most of those features.
He learned down and picked up the brick, which would ordinarily weigh him down, but was so natural in his hand, like it was a gift-wrapped present from the forces of evil. He wanted to use it. He wanted to make the world suffer the way he did. All those times he was laughed at for simply existing. All those times he was rejected for being just mildly annoying. All those punches he took in the name of creep control.
But then as Woody strode up to his would-be victims, he passed his reflection in the comic book shop window. He saw what he looked like for the first time since this transformation…and empathized with those calling him a freak. His face was melting and folding over. His eyes were coal black. His nose was dripping like chocolate off his face. His body was bloated with monstrous red goo. His dirty blond hair resembled a den of snakes rather than a simple unkempt appearance.
“What are you waiting for?! Use the brick and end the world! KILL THEM ALL!”
But no matter how the voice vibrated in his brain, no matter how hard it made his nerves convulse, he couldn’t do it. He slowly put the brick down…because he hated what he had become. All this hatred turned him into something ugly and unrecognizable. Finally, society had a reason to hate him and his own self-hatred wasn’t manufactured either. His stomach burst and boiled. It exploded with bile and death sauce. Acid in his throat accumulated like the clay sweat. And then, he let go of his anger and all of his fabricated grudges…in the form of black throw-up on the sidewalk.
In one vomit spell, he cleansed his disgust for himself. Every horrible feeling within him stretched his insides out as the black goop flooded the concrete. And then…emptiness was all that remained. An empty stomach. An empty soul. But best of all, an empty mind free from the judgment of a booming voice and lighthearted fairy laughter. He sat on a part of the sidewalk that wasn’t drenched in puke and breathed in and out, as if the cool morning air soothed his throat.
Speaking of throats, a familiar voice cleared hers. Woody opened his dewy, red, puffy eyes to see that the barista was there holding the drink he left behind. No royal dresses. No punch-down comedy. No scorn. Just concern. “Forget something?” she asked. When Woody reached his hand up to grab his drink, she pulled away. “Give me those jelly beans.”
“The…the jelly beans? These ones?”
The barista nodded and Woody Silver did as he was told. She read the label and analytically curled her lips downward. “Black pills. Of course. Medicine for the involuntary celibate.”
“Those were black pills?!”
She nodded again before throwing the jar in a nearby rubbish bin like she was shooting a basketball. “Two points. I used to play basketball in high school. You could have figured that out if you hadn’t gone on about your…murder music, and let me talk for a change.” Woody hung his head in shame once again. “You just need practice, that’s all. Not with me, of course. I’m married.”
“That’s nice. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. No backlash? No insults? Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Those black pills are out of your system. Here. Drink this instead. I’ll help your stomach.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed the drink and had a few swallows. The coolness was so gentle on his throat that he wasn’t in a hurry to chug it all. He wanted the easiness to last as long as he could draw it out.
“Guess I’ll see you next time you come in. Word of advice, though: I’d retire that Chris Benoit joke if I were you. Send it to the old folks home in Florida.”
“Good idea.”
“Very good. I’m Elizabeth, by the way. But you can call me Liz.”
“Woody. Woody Silver. You already knew that, though. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. Enjoy your tea!” Liz waved goodbye and strolled away.
When she walked out of sight, Woody said under his breath, “Nice to meet you indeed…” He sipped his tea and relaxed against the wall, not caring what the world thought of his vulnerable state. In fact, they didn’t seem to have much of an opinion at all given how the pedestrians mostly ignored him.
Woody Silver snapped out of his gangsta rap induced trance long enough to pull his ear buds out and accept his drink. He did so with a nervous glance around the House of Roses and Chocolates (not a bad name for a coffee bar). He knew these people were gazing at him through figurative microscope lenses. If they adjusted the magnification, they could see his tiny ego shrivel up and die like a chopped off cock.
“What are you listening to?” asked the blond barista with the prettiest of grins.
“Uh…gangsta rap. You know, songs about shooting people in the face.”
The barista darted her eyes around as if she needed to know the nearest exit. “You like that kind of music?”
“Yeah. It’s good stuff. It’s not like I’m the one doing the shooting.”
“…Uh-huh…well, you go enjoy your violent music…Woody.”
This would have been a good time for Woody to put a sock in it and leave with at least a little bit of his shattered dignity intact. But he just HAD to make it worse and even more awkward than before. “Yeah, I get it. When someone commits murder, they blame rap music. When someone commits suicide, they blame heavy metal. Chris Benoit was probably a big fan of Rage Against the Machine.”
All eyes were on Woody now and they were large enough to crush his sense of self-worth ten times over. Whether it was the barista, the lesbian couple near the window, or the little girl and her mother not too far from him in line. After a while of allowing Woody’s anxiety to chill faster than his iced drink, the four-year-old princess said, “You fucked up.” Everyone gave a shocked laugh, though this was a pleasant kind of shock.
Woody didn’t find any of this pleasant. He robotically slumped to the nearest table with his drink, his iPhone, and his ear buds, hanging his head in shame. He wished he could be anywhere but that coffee bar. Even getting hit with a bolt of lightning and being sent to an early death seemed tamer than this incredibly public humiliation. Under his breath, he said, “If this ends up on You Tube, I’m going to be very upset…” Thankfully, nobody heard him and the target on his back didn’t grow a single centimeter.
But a metaphorical target he still had. His stomach turned and boiled and no amount of iced tea could calm his mild nausea. The whole world laughed at him and his defenses were gone. Then again, having shaggy blond hair and dirty clothing didn’t provide much in the way of defenses against scrutiny. But then he reached in his flannel jacket pocket and remembered he had a cure for all of this.
It was a small jar of black jelly beans he found on the internet. He couldn’t remember the name of the website or why these beans were advertised as medicinal. When desperation struck him like that much-wanted bolt of lightning, he didn’t ask a lot of questions. He unscrewed the lid and shoveled a handful of black jelly beans down his gullet, not even taking ample time to chew his food. Then again, choking wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened to him that day.
Instead, the rush of energy he got from this candy was the best thing. His hands stopped jittering. He could effortlessly pick up his sunken head. The cloudy weather outside gave way to sunshine through the windows. His iced tea tasted like magic in a cup. The women around him made his heart flutter in ways he hadn’t felt in a long time. Whatever he paid for these jelly beans was worth it. He could be broke tomorrow and die a happy man the next day, as evidenced by the blossoming smile on his face.
His newfound eye-brightening joy led him to believe he could conquer the day, one in which he previously had no schedule and no plan of any sort. He could finally talk to the barista and not be an awkward mess. He floated by the seat of his pants to the beautiful blond, who was now decked out in a light blue dress with flowers and jewels adorned everywhere. But before he could open his mouth and allow poetry to pour from his lips…
The barista twirled like a fairy princess and showed off the wedding ring on her white gloved hand. She sang in an angelic voice with the rhythm of a nee-ner-nee-ner tune, “I got married! And you can’t have me! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha, ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha, ha!”
Woody turned towards the lesbian couple, who were now in matching dark green dresses with forest insignias printed everywhere. Their black gloved hands showed off wedding rings of their own, sparkling like incel tears. “We got married! And you can’t have us!” The same nee-ner-nee-ner tune, the same enchanting high-pitched voices.
And then the mother joined in on the fun with her purple dress, golden crown, and heavenly diamond on her finger. “I got married! And you can’t have me!”
Woody clutched his ears and tightly closed his eyes, running out of the coffee bar and leaving his drink behind. He remembered the iPhone and ear buds, though. The violent rapper’s voice was the only one he wanted to hear…until he had a female guest vocalist who jovially sang, “I got married! And you can’t have me!”
“Oh, come on!” Woody sped down the sidewalk without giving a single solitary fuck who he weirded-out along the way. He was already as small and repugnant as bacteria. He was already lower than the worms crawling beneath the park’s grassy turf. But no matter how far he ran or how many times he actually opened his eyes for a change…
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang a white dress-wearing vixen in the sweetest voice.
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang Wonder Woman in the comic book shop window.
“I got married! And you can’t have me!” sang a woman in jean shorts and flip-flops, also in the loveliest high-pitched voice.
“Stop it! I get your point! I get it, I get it, I get it! I’m weird! I’m stupid! Enough is enough!” shouted Woody, though his words only echoed in his head, never once giving the public a shot at hearing his opinion of their love. “Stop it!” His voice grew deeper and more demonic. “No more!” His voice had a hint of ogre-like growling. “STOP!” Except they wouldn’t stop. These impossibly beautiful women from all around closed in on him, reminding him over and over again that they were not prizes to be won by loser men like him.
“Pick up the brick!” shouted an evil bass voice from behind. The clouds grew dark once more, giving way not to a halo of sunshine, but to the brightness of hellfire. The once lovely women in their dresses turned into pitch-black monsters with razor-sharp claws and mocking goblin voices. Woody looked around to see where the original evil voice came from, but couldn’t find the source except in his own head, booming like movie theater speakers.
“The world never loved you anyways. Your parents think you’re a disgrace. Your friends think you’re dragon shit. Society wants to kill you. Pick up the brick and make them all go away. Murder every last one of those undeserving femoids. Pick up the brick, haul back, and let her ho.”
Woody’s anxious sweat quadrupled into a clay-like substance, like his skin was peeling off and revealing a more sinister side to a world that could already see his weaknesses. He gritted his teeth so hard that his gums bled black. He listened to the one voice who understood him beneath the lovey-dovey mockery. He had a mission. It was his job to smash the world into pieces with that one brick. He smiled like a villain, though his clay sweat masked most of those features.
He learned down and picked up the brick, which would ordinarily weigh him down, but was so natural in his hand, like it was a gift-wrapped present from the forces of evil. He wanted to use it. He wanted to make the world suffer the way he did. All those times he was laughed at for simply existing. All those times he was rejected for being just mildly annoying. All those punches he took in the name of creep control.
But then as Woody strode up to his would-be victims, he passed his reflection in the comic book shop window. He saw what he looked like for the first time since this transformation…and empathized with those calling him a freak. His face was melting and folding over. His eyes were coal black. His nose was dripping like chocolate off his face. His body was bloated with monstrous red goo. His dirty blond hair resembled a den of snakes rather than a simple unkempt appearance.
“What are you waiting for?! Use the brick and end the world! KILL THEM ALL!”
But no matter how the voice vibrated in his brain, no matter how hard it made his nerves convulse, he couldn’t do it. He slowly put the brick down…because he hated what he had become. All this hatred turned him into something ugly and unrecognizable. Finally, society had a reason to hate him and his own self-hatred wasn’t manufactured either. His stomach burst and boiled. It exploded with bile and death sauce. Acid in his throat accumulated like the clay sweat. And then, he let go of his anger and all of his fabricated grudges…in the form of black throw-up on the sidewalk.
In one vomit spell, he cleansed his disgust for himself. Every horrible feeling within him stretched his insides out as the black goop flooded the concrete. And then…emptiness was all that remained. An empty stomach. An empty soul. But best of all, an empty mind free from the judgment of a booming voice and lighthearted fairy laughter. He sat on a part of the sidewalk that wasn’t drenched in puke and breathed in and out, as if the cool morning air soothed his throat.
Speaking of throats, a familiar voice cleared hers. Woody opened his dewy, red, puffy eyes to see that the barista was there holding the drink he left behind. No royal dresses. No punch-down comedy. No scorn. Just concern. “Forget something?” she asked. When Woody reached his hand up to grab his drink, she pulled away. “Give me those jelly beans.”
“The…the jelly beans? These ones?”
The barista nodded and Woody Silver did as he was told. She read the label and analytically curled her lips downward. “Black pills. Of course. Medicine for the involuntary celibate.”
“Those were black pills?!”
She nodded again before throwing the jar in a nearby rubbish bin like she was shooting a basketball. “Two points. I used to play basketball in high school. You could have figured that out if you hadn’t gone on about your…murder music, and let me talk for a change.” Woody hung his head in shame once again. “You just need practice, that’s all. Not with me, of course. I’m married.”
“That’s nice. Congratulations.”
“Thank you. No backlash? No insults? Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Those black pills are out of your system. Here. Drink this instead. I’ll help your stomach.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed the drink and had a few swallows. The coolness was so gentle on his throat that he wasn’t in a hurry to chug it all. He wanted the easiness to last as long as he could draw it out.
“Guess I’ll see you next time you come in. Word of advice, though: I’d retire that Chris Benoit joke if I were you. Send it to the old folks home in Florida.”
“Good idea.”
“Very good. I’m Elizabeth, by the way. But you can call me Liz.”
“Woody. Woody Silver. You already knew that, though. Nice to meet you.”
“Same. Enjoy your tea!” Liz waved goodbye and strolled away.
When she walked out of sight, Woody said under his breath, “Nice to meet you indeed…” He sipped his tea and relaxed against the wall, not caring what the world thought of his vulnerable state. In fact, they didn’t seem to have much of an opinion at all given how the pedestrians mostly ignored him.
February 1, 2023
Grocery Store of Broken Dreams
Roses and chocolates for the not-so-happy couple
When it comes to the law, they’re constantly in trouble
Black eyes, long cries, and cocaine covered nostrils
Only broken bones will be found in their fossils
A frozen pizza can feed a family of four
But not when the mother isn’t alive anymore
A single dad with gray hairs and noisy kids
He bottles his anger with the tightest lid
A bag of cheddar cheese sour cream potato chips
Is a fat man’s only friend when his self-esteem dips
He breathes like a windstorm, his T-shirt is damp
But life itself isn’t worth giving a single damn
A bottle of Advil in the hands of a grandma
Looks natural after the loss of the grandpa
A cell phone in her purse the size of a brick
But nobody calls, not even when she’s sick
A price gun in the hands of a check-out clerk
Will get a lot of mileage in this endless work
Take home a skinny paycheck, be a wreck
One dollar away from the homeless trek
Screenwriters, actors, and the bleeding hearts
Are part of this community that’s falling apart
It’s called the grocery store of broken dreams
It’s easier to fail and chow down on ice cream
How am I any different from my fellow shoppers?
I too have a cart full of frozen cheese poppers
I too was a dreamer once upon a long time
I too live in a town where stars never shine
I too have a stomach that stretches my shirt
I too have a mind full of trauma and hurt
I too have a heart that’ll never beat again
I too will never know if I’ll breathe again
When it comes to the law, they’re constantly in trouble
Black eyes, long cries, and cocaine covered nostrils
Only broken bones will be found in their fossils
A frozen pizza can feed a family of four
But not when the mother isn’t alive anymore
A single dad with gray hairs and noisy kids
He bottles his anger with the tightest lid
A bag of cheddar cheese sour cream potato chips
Is a fat man’s only friend when his self-esteem dips
He breathes like a windstorm, his T-shirt is damp
But life itself isn’t worth giving a single damn
A bottle of Advil in the hands of a grandma
Looks natural after the loss of the grandpa
A cell phone in her purse the size of a brick
But nobody calls, not even when she’s sick
A price gun in the hands of a check-out clerk
Will get a lot of mileage in this endless work
Take home a skinny paycheck, be a wreck
One dollar away from the homeless trek
Screenwriters, actors, and the bleeding hearts
Are part of this community that’s falling apart
It’s called the grocery store of broken dreams
It’s easier to fail and chow down on ice cream
How am I any different from my fellow shoppers?
I too have a cart full of frozen cheese poppers
I too was a dreamer once upon a long time
I too live in a town where stars never shine
I too have a stomach that stretches my shirt
I too have a mind full of trauma and hurt
I too have a heart that’ll never beat again
I too will never know if I’ll breathe again
January 26, 2023
You Win
Congratulations! You beat me in a war
Want a fucking cookie? How about four?
Go grab me a plate and I’ll regurgitate
A whole bag of Oreos that I just ate
Congratulations! You owned me on the mike
Take your gold medal and take a fucking hike
Your precious prize is made out of chocolate
The gold is urine from my manly man rocket
Congratulations! I’ll never recover
Maybe I should be your brand new prison lover
I’ll be the top and you can be the bottom
Smash your ass like a pumpkin in the middle of autumn
Congratulations! You win at everything forever
I’m sure your victory speech will be funny and clever
Tell them how you cheated me out of first place
Then crack your stupid jokes about gender and race
Congratulations! There’s nothing left to achieve
You’re the king of the mountain, it’s what we believe
Play with your riches until you get burned out
All those cars for nothing, so much for your clout
Congratulations! You drove everyone away
Here’s your trillion dollar check on this lovely payday
Now you’re all alone with nobody to talk to
Not even Creepy McCreeperton wants to stalk you
Congratulations! You won against a guy who never wanted to play
Want a fucking cookie? How about four?
Go grab me a plate and I’ll regurgitate
A whole bag of Oreos that I just ate
Congratulations! You owned me on the mike
Take your gold medal and take a fucking hike
Your precious prize is made out of chocolate
The gold is urine from my manly man rocket
Congratulations! I’ll never recover
Maybe I should be your brand new prison lover
I’ll be the top and you can be the bottom
Smash your ass like a pumpkin in the middle of autumn
Congratulations! You win at everything forever
I’m sure your victory speech will be funny and clever
Tell them how you cheated me out of first place
Then crack your stupid jokes about gender and race
Congratulations! There’s nothing left to achieve
You’re the king of the mountain, it’s what we believe
Play with your riches until you get burned out
All those cars for nothing, so much for your clout
Congratulations! You drove everyone away
Here’s your trillion dollar check on this lovely payday
Now you’re all alone with nobody to talk to
Not even Creepy McCreeperton wants to stalk you
Congratulations! You won against a guy who never wanted to play
