The Slob

by Aron Beauregard

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.

if I wanted a push to normalcy, it was going to have to come from within.

A house doesn’t just turn into hell overnight.

sometimes you had to laugh, otherwise, you’d only cry.

The convenience of the product is irrelevant if it works like shit,

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.

While the prospect of his fears transpiring was remote, that didn’t make them invalid.