The Slob

by Aron Beauregard

I was a misshapen heap; peaks of fleshy mountains with the drooping valleys occupied by a warm scarlet river of flowing plasma in between.

I thought projecting my good intentions onto others would act as a safeguard. But benevolence, charm, and charity will be of little help once you fall into the clutches of a heartless heathen.

You can’t change what cloth you’ve been cut from but you can at least try to wash it.

But that was life, sometimes you had to laugh, otherwise, you’d only cry.

We all knew that Lisa had never wanted to be on Earth. During her bipolar mood swings she often said that she never asked to be part of the world we were born into and, in turn, held hostage by.

Whether we like to admit it or not, girls always look for a little piece of their father in the men they seek. Something that can hopefully bring back the memories of youth and a feeling of comfort and protection.

“What did the cannibal do after he dumped his girlfriend?” I asked, still garnering zero response. “He wiped his ass,”

I loved how he made things incredibly easy for me, especially the most difficult things.

We never valued our quality-of-life based on what was around us, only who was around us.

no one knows how the seemingly minor choices they make will come to affect them.

The guy was a total fucking slob.

Terror in itself is a helpless feeling that is usually injected immediately into our systems. Almost like it’s just sitting dormant, filling a needle that is already poking into our veins. It’s waiting for the perfect moment for the plunger to be pushed.

I was rooming with the devil. An evil that people are only supposed to hear about but never encounter. A viciousness that we only see on the big screen. A monster so deviant that it seemed fit for Hollywood, but at the same time, was too real and gritty for their polished cinematography to capture.

“I don’t know how I could be so stupid, I just thought this was another dirty house. Another quick sale. Now I’m part of it.”

if I wasn’t so hungry for a lousy forty fucking dollars that I was willing to disregard the strangeness of The Slob, NONE OF THIS HAPPENS.

He savored the lady-brisket, pinning it between his tongue and the roof of his mouth before slowly extracting the juice and swallowing. He approached it like he was eating cereal, not another person.