Playground

by Aron Beauregard

For the first time in a while, he just knew it was going to be a good day.

allowing her fermented beaver to peek out from below.

The monstrous melody that was Geraldine’s cave brought Rock to his knees.

caused her bottom dentures to eject from her mouth.

Greg turned around, shooting laser beams through the most disappointing sperm he’d ever unleashed.

He was just a boy, a moldable wad of putty set to be stuffed into a box, confined in a way only a corpse in a coffin should.

Rock and Donnie were bound by their suffering.

Others were considered too extreme, even for the Nazi regime.

Just like Sam, they were crushed.

It wasn’t a secret that Greg had a big mouth.

“But, I’m—I’m your mother!” she cried. “And I’m a motherfucker,” Rock grumbled.

Rock watched on solemnly as the long spear of glass carved into her curdled meat curtain.