Son of the Slob

by Aron Beauregard

Monsters are real, and they don’t look quite like the supernatural depictions on the silver screen. They look just like you and me.

I’d stared the devil in the face and walked away looking just like him.

like he’d exited my womb in the clutches of a mid-life crisis.

lol

Harold isn’t perfect, but he’s my son. Part of me is inside of him. There is nothing that I want more than for those parts to shine through the darkness. To snuff out and overpower the warped genetics of his real father.

“Entirely and indefinitely alone.”

I hadn’t woken up intending to get this emotional or spiritual, but in a bizarre way, it felt good.

I hope that whatever they owed you doesn’t control you. I hope that it’s worth enough for you to pick a new destiny.

She wanted to be eaten, she wanted to find the next spectrum of life, but first, she needed to conclude the current one.

If the walls could talk, they probably wouldn’t. They’d probably just scream.