Chewing On Glass Presents… New Year’s Eve…

New Year’s Eve

“You know what the best part about New Year is?” The question hangs in the air. An open wound dripping from her face. “I could give a fuck, you fucking piece of,” she is cut off. Silenced by a dirty finger on her lips. Her own blood and who knows what else. “Now, now it’s best you listen rather than blurt out useless words that hold no meaning. For warning the next time you speak to me like that I’ll cut off something that matters not simply bust you up side your head,” he tells her. A fire burns in her eyes as she snaps her powerful jaws at the dirty finger. Useless attempt to hurt her captor. He doesn’t say a word at her sad attempt to hurt him. With a look of disappointment displayed on his face he plunges the knife in his hand into her leg. Precise he misses anything vital and inflicts a pain that she can only imagine is the beginning of the end. Screaming, crying her pain takes over her emotions. Breaking the tension and the air that he has been trying to create. He grabs her by the back of the head, “I’ll ask you again. Do you know what the best part about the New Year is?” A dirty mix of snot and tears falls from her face as she speaks, “Can you. Can you take the knife out of my leg?” He touches the handle of the knife ever so gently. “There is a long answer here as to why I can’t and I would love to explain it to you, but I’m not really all that interested. So the short answer is no,” he takes his hand off the handle of the knife. “The resolutions,” he announces moving on from her disobedience. “Take last year for example my resolution was to not kill anyone. Worked out for a time, but let’s face it a wolf in sheep’s clothing is still a wolf. Is he not? God you whimper a lot,” he complains. “I can’t help it. My leg hurts so bad,” she cries. He caress her hair, “Sweetie you haven’t even begun to understand the word hurt. Now where is that darling friend of yours?” He grips a handful of hair. “I don’t know,” she says through tears. “Not good enough. I’ve been watching the two of you for a time now. Don’t think I don’t know any and everything about you. Your girlfriend is never late and today of all days she happens to be late? Consistency the world runs on consistency,” he says to her. “I don’t know,” she cries once again. “Please don’t hurt her,” she begs. “Please don’t.”

“So what’s the plan this year?” Her hand is intertwined with hers. “I don’t know really. I was thinking this year we could have a calm night at home. Watch the ball drop or something that normal people do. What do normal people do?” Her girlfriend asks. “What do boring people do?” She rephrases the question. “I have no idea what boring people do. I want to go out. Do something exciting,” she smiles. “I’m sure we can find something to do,” her girlfriend reasons. They stop just outside of her apartment building. They kiss passionately. “I guess I don’t have much time to show you the time of your life,” her girlfriend jokes. “Nope, not really,” she smirks. Her girlfriend lets out a sigh, “I’ll see you tonight then?” She smiles and puts her arms around her, “You better.” They kiss once again before parting. She watches her walk away before entering her building. A man waits in the driver’s seat of the car nearby. Rolling the passenger window up. He waits some more. Waits for the right moment.

“Can’t hurt what isn’t here. So where is she?” He asks impatiently. “She should be here already. She should have been here by now. She is never late,” she tries to reason. He grabs the handle of the knife and moves it ever so slightly. She screams out in agony. “Now there is no reason to lie to me. Lying to me will only bring you pain,” He says calmly. “I didn’t lie,” her tears dripping off her face. “She is never late?” He questions. “Unless you are speaking of a different woman. Then you of all people should know she is always late,” he releases the handle of the knife. “How the fuck long have you been watching me?” she asks. “Long enough to know everything I needed to know. Long enough to know that no one is anywhere to be found. You’d be amazed the amount of information people are willing to give. I mean willing. Not knife in your leg willing, but pretty close. People never shut the fuck up really. They just talk and talk. About anything and everything,” he lectures. “Kind of like now?” She asks. He smiles under the mask, “There we go. That’s the kind of wit that will get you far in this game. Quick. Always be quick. Don’t let anyone take advantage of you.” She looks puzzled, “What is that even supposed to mean? Besides you know one is taking advantage of me.” He pretends to be pondering something. Acting out all the nonverbal expressions hidden behind his mask. He rubs the chin of the mask. “Are you sure?” He asks. “I mean where is she?” He wonders out loud. “I don’t fucking know,” She screams agitated. “Really? Because I think you do. I mean I know I do. But between me and you where do you think she has been spreading her legs lately?” He asks. “You are fucking sick to think that I am going to play along with your stupid little games,” she says in a pissed off tone. “Oh, you are going to play the game,” he says as a matter of fact. “Why the fuck would I give you the satisfaction?” she asks. He reaches for his bag resting next to her chair. His breathe brushing up against the skin of her leg. “I’ve been telling the truth. I have been talking,” she pleads in a panic. He pulls a camera out of his bag, “You seems rather nervous for someone who doesn’t want to play, the fucking game,” he mocks before laughing. He holds the camera out for her to take, “Go ahead take it.” She dead stares into his masked eyes. “My hands are bound,” she reminds him. “Oh, that’s right. You don’t want to see what I’ve got anyways. I mean you don’t want to play the game. You don’t want a chance to live,” he repeats back to her. In one quick motion he pulls the knife out of her leg and presses the blade to her throat. “So what is it going to be?” His voice deep and serious. “Are you going to play the game or am I going to slit your throat and fuck the wound while you slowly bleed out?” Her words are barely audible. Somewhere between a whisper and a cry. “Speak up or forever hold your peace,” he shouts. “I’ll play the game. I’ll play the game,” she shouts each word and each breath pressed against the blade. “Good then let’s begin,” his voice completely different as he takes the blade away from her throat. “How have we already not begun?” she questions as blood seeps from the wound in her leg. He shrugs his shoulders, “Because I make the rules?”

“Your whole life is based on rules. When do I sit? Where do I sit? What are the rules to sitting? Just relax. Go with what feels right. Be yourself,” the woman before her says. “I think you mean what is the proper etiquette to sitting,” she responds back. They both burst out into laughter. “Of course you would focus on that and nothing else I said,” the woman smiles. She puts a puzzled look on her face, “Did you say anything else?” The woman takes her by surprise into her arms, “I could say or not say anything to you, and still find things to not say to you.” She kisses the woman, “Good.” A server walks up to them. “Excuses me ladies your table is ready.” He walks them through the dining room of the restaurant. They take a sit at their table and he hands them their menus. “Your server will be with you shortly. Is there anything I can get you to drink in the mean time?” he asks. They order drinks and he walks away. She looks over the menu. Eyeing something light for tonight. Talking as she reads the menu. The woman keeps taking glances just past her. “I said do you think I should have the salad or the salmon?” she asks again. “What?” The woman asks burning holes into her menu. She glances behind her to see what her girlfriend was looking at. She doesn’t see anything beyond more people eating and drinking. “Did you see someone you know?” She asks. “No, I thought I did. But I didn’t,” the woman says quickly. “Okay,” she says awkwardly. “So should I get the salad or the salmon?” She asks one last time before picking the menu back up. “Which one do you want the most?” The woman ask. “Neither, what I really want is the nachos with extra shit,” she jokes. The woman smiles but even a blind man could see she is somewhere else. “Then get the nachos with the extra shit,” her girlfriend says. She puts the menu back down, “What’s wrong? Where did you go all of a sudden?”

He snaps his fingers in front of her face. “Did I lose you there for a second?” He asks. “If you know where she is. Then where is she?” She asks. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says before closing the knife and putting it in his pocket. “First I have to ask though. Where do you think she is?” He asks while turning on the camera. “I’m not even sure I want to know as much as I think I do,” she says in a low tone. “Well that’s not an answer,” he mocks. “She is probably with some whore right? That’s what you want me to say. That is what you want me to believe. Let me guess you got some photo of some hot bitch with her head between my girlfriend’s legs?” She says through gritted teeth. “I’ve got something better than that,” he moves the camera preview screen just in front of her face. It takes her a second to focus on the tiny image. “That fine looking bitch sure does have a pretty hairy ass,” he jokes. Her face is filled with confusion. “Seems your girl needed a little bit more than you could provide,” he offers as a relief. “She said that was her brother,” she says out loud. He flips the camera preview back so he can look at it, “Nope, that’s not her brother. I have seen her brother. Not in the same night mind you. But even creeping through his apartment in the dead of night. I can tell you that is not her brother,” he says. “You fucking think? Jesus what the fuck,” she screams in agony. “Damn, that really wasn’t the reaction that I was going for. I almost feel something. I almost feel bad, but mostly I feel jealous,” he says tapping the side of the chair with his foot. “What the fuck are you talking about?” She asks. “I mean here I am. I got you strapped to a chair, I put a knife in your leg, and I was already to torture you for hours. I mean hours to get a scream like that out of you, and all I had to do was show you a picture? I really need to up my game,” he says before flipping through the other pictures on the camera. They sit and stand there awkwardly. The sound of the next photo button filling in the silence of the room. “Did you want to see this one where she shoves his whole dick in her mouth? I was able to get a before and after shot. Like going in her face was fine and then taking it to the point of tears. It looks pretty sexy to be honest. I got this other one where she is sitting on his face. Did she sit on your face too or was that more of your thing? Maybe she just needed a new kind of domination? I don’t know how that works really. I’m not going to lie. I don’t know. I’m not good with relationships or human interaction for that matter, but how does that work? One is the man, one is the woman, or you are both women?” He keeps pressing the next button. “What the fuck are you rambling on about? We are both women asshole so, we both play the woman. Is this insanity really part of your sick twisted fantasy?” She asks annoyed. “Not really. I’m kind of torn really. I did all this research and all this planning. I’m not feeling it. I felt it when I stabbed you in the leg. Maybe I need to do that again?” he questions. “You already broke my heart. What difference would it make at this point?” she asks. “That’s it? You just want me to kill you? No passion, no rage, no god damn fear. How am I supposed to work with that? I mean you want me to stab again? That’s really what you want right now?” He asked confused. “Yeah,” she says. “Jesus Christ,” he screams. “We were supposed to get married, she said she loved me, she said that she wanted kids, and it turns out all of it has been a lie from the start,” she thinks out loud. “What do you want to do about it?” He asks. “I want to kill the bitch. Rip her heart right from her chest. Just like she did to me,” she says intensely.

He walks over to her and begins to untie her. “What the hell are you doing?” She asks. “Well you can’t kill her strapped to a chair now can you?” he asks. “I guess not,” she says stretching her arms. The feeling comes rushing back into her hands. They sting like pins and needles as he unties her ankles. “Sorry, about the leg,” he says in an embarrassed tone. She smiles, “I’d like to say it happens, but honestly this is a first for me.” He smiles back under his mask, “This is a first for me too. I usually don’t relate to the victim so much, but for some reason this time I really do.” They sit and stand there awkwardly for a moment. “So are we really doing this?” She asks. He nods his head yes. “So what is the plan then?” she asks. He lets out a large sigh, “I guess drive over to her boyfriend’s place. We might have to take them out of there. Not sure what the visitor situation is over there. He doesn’t have a roommate or anything so, that is pretty convenient. Do you think you have the will power and the strength to stab her? I mean with your leg and all?” He asked genuinely concerned. She looks down at the bloody mess that is her jeans, “It hurts like hell, but I think I can manage. I’m going to have to change my pants before we go though. The adrenaline has to take over at a certain point right?” He takes the knife out of his pocket, “The adrenaline is the best part. The feel and the rush of it all. Here you are going to need this.” She takes the knife into her hand. “Thank you,” she says looking down at the knife. “Hey, no problem. Again sorry about the,” his words are cut off as she rams the knife into his throat. The knife lodged at an awkward angle from his throat to his spine. His knees buckle from the weight of his own body. He falls down to his knees and she catches him. Supports his weight and hers with the one good leg she has left. “I made a resolution last year too. One I failed at until today, but where does it say you have to complete your resolution before the day ends? It doesn’t. Lucky for me or unlucky for me. Depends on how you look at all I guess I’m not as weak as you are. My resolution was to not follow the rules. Go with what feels right. Go with what feels like me. So thank you for helping me complete my New Year’s resolution,” she pulls the knife out in one swift motion. Blood sprays all over her one clean pant leg. The alarm on her phone starts to go off and she lets him fall to the floor. He digs and scratches at the carpet in agony. She walks over to the kitchen counter placing the knife next to the phone. She swipes the alarm off with her bloody finger, “Looks like you ran out of time to complete yours.” She limps her way to the door dialing the police as she does, “This pants are fucking wrecked and there is no way in hell I am getting the deposit back on this apartment. Fucking asshole. Hello.”

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

Happy Halloween…

What… No horror story?… honestly couldn’t come up with anything more terrifying than the idea that I won’t be back until January…

That’s right… it is that time again… really hope that you have enjoyed these last few months… the stories… the Broken Thoughts… and the rambling… enough about looking back… it is time to go out and get some candy… never too old for free shit…

Pro tip… Take a kid… people ask way fewer questions… Outside of who’s kid is this and what not… unless you already have your own… then you are playing the game on God Mode…

In the mean time enjoy this video… while I figure out what to do with it…

More to come… hopefully… not sure I needed to add more shit to my plate… but fuck it… crazy train is rolling out of the station… good night… and good luck… Hope all is well… I’m out to fucking lunch… see you all in January…

Merch… Threadless… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

The Memorial Day Incident

                “Just a little bit further Jason we need to get a good spot for your first parade.” The woman pulls her son through the crowd. The child looks scared and continues to mumble louder and louder after each person he brushes past. “What are you saying Jason?” The mother stops to hear her son in the large crowd. “I raped that little girl and it burns in my mind. I wonder if she even remembers, but she was so drunk she probably doesn’t,” the little boy says. “What are you talking about Jason?” the mother shrieks in horror. “I don’t like the crowd mom can we go back to the car?” “What were you saying before Jason?” “I didn’t say anything before mommy,” the boy says confused. The woman crouches down to be face to face with her son, “Yes you did and you should never repeat whatever it is you just said. You are much too young to be using those words or to even know them.” “What words? Are you mad at me?” The woman stands up and takes her child into her arms, “Never mind, I’m not mad at you sweetie.”  “Can we go back to the car?” the child asks once again. The woman puts him back on the ground. “Yes we can go back to the car,” she says disappointed. “We just have to go back through the crowd. Can you do that?” The little boy nods his head yes and she takes his hand once again. They start to make their way through the crowd and almost immediately he begins to mumble again as he slips by people in the crowd. This time however it is a different woman that hears him not his mother. “What did he just say?” the stranger asks his mother. “Sorry?” she asks the stranger. “What did your son just say to me?” Confused Jason’s mother tells the woman, “Nothing he doesn’t know what he is saying. The crowd is making him very nervous and scarred.” “That’s no excuses for lying about my father like that,” the stranger says in anger. “What?” Jason’s mother asks. “Your little bastard kid just said my dad like to touch me in my sleep and that I liked it. Which is bull shit lady my dad’s a fucking saint.” The crowd around them grows slowly quite to hear what they are saying. “Why is she yelling mom?” “Because she is confused,” his mother says while taking his hand again. “Fuck that I’m not confused your son is just a sick freak.” “Like I said he is scarred and nervous because of the crowd. He doesn’t know what he is saying and you are just making it worse for him.” “I’m making it worse?” the lady says while throwing up her arms. “I’ll show him what worse really is.” The stranger eyes the child as someone steps up to them. “Excuses me is there a problem here?” a uniformed police officer asks the two ladies. “Yes there is her fucking bastard child is making up stuff about my father and me.” “Ma’am the language is not appropriate. He is just a child he probably just doesn’t know what he said.”

The cop kneels down to be at Jason’s level. He places his hand on the child’s shoulder, “Why don’t you just say you’re sorry, and you and your lovely mother can enjoy the rest of the parade.” “I shot him because he was black. I knew he didn’t have a weapon, but I shot him anyways. What’s the world with one less black man? A better place,” Jason says to the cops face. The cop turns a lighter shade of pale, “Excuse me?” “Oh my god Jason I can’t believe you just said that. That is enough,” his mother says while picking him up. “I’m so sorry,” the mother tries to explain to the cop. The police officer ignores her. “That never happened. He had a gun so I shot him,” he says to himself. The crowd grows even quieter as the cop backs away from the mother and child. “Told you the kid was a freak,” the stranger says. “Shut up,” the officer says to the woman. The crowd murmurs while staring at the cop. “So what if he was black?” the cop asks while looking around at the people around him. “A criminal is a criminal and I did what I had to do to protect myself,” the cop mumbles to himself. “Mom I want to go home I’m scared.” Jason puts his head in the crook of his mother’s neck. He buries his head as deep as she begins to speak, “I’m just going to take my son home if that is okay with you officer. He didn’t mean what he said and doesn’t even know what he is saying.” The cop doesn’t look up as he speaks, “That is probably for the best ma’am.”

The mother turns to walk through the crowd once again. Two people in front of the crowd move right out of the way making sure to not touch the child as they pass by. “That’s it,” the stranger shouts before throwing her arms down and walking away. As his mother tries to go around a rather large man Jason’s dangling foot lightly touches the man’s arm. “I buried them under my house. The smell is starting to get to me but in a way I like it,” Jason says. The man has a face of shock as he tries to move away without anyone noticing. Jason mother stops dead in her tracks as someone from the crowd shouts, “Someone get that man.” “Why I’ve done nothing the wrong here,” the man says while trying to push through the crowd that will not move. “Just because a child says something that makes it true?” the man asks the crowd. Jason’s mother sets her son back on the ground, “What did you do?” “I didn’t do anything,” the man says nervously. “This is Officer Johnson, I need back up on the intersection of Fifth and Jackson,” the officer says into his communicator. “Backup?” the man questions out loud. “There’s no need for backup I didn’t do anything.” The officer pulls his gun from its holster, “Please put your hands behind your head.” “Hey, watch it there trigger finger I didn’t do anything.” “Then you won’t mind putting your hands behind your head? I won’t ask again.” “Okay so some crazy fucking kid says something and we’re all going to believe him?” The crowd is still silent as the people behind the man slowly move away. “My son is not crazy. I don’t know what is wrong with him, but he is not crazy.” The man grabs her throat and begins to choke her. “Your son is crazy,” the man grips tighter on her throat, “Fucking say it.” The man pulls her in front of his body as the officer fires two rounds. The two shots hit her right in the chest. The man releases his grip on the woman’s throat as she falls to her knees. Jason’s mother coughs up blood as the officer also goes down to his knees.

The crowd begins to cry out and run in all directions, “Nice job officer dip shit. I guess we will just have to add another innocent death to your list.” Jason has not moved from his spot as he stands there stunned. The large stranger walks up to Jason and grabs him by the shoulders as he raises him high into the air. “Why did you do this you little brat?” the man screams as he shakes the child. Jason begins to cry out a mixture of mumbles and tears. “I sliced her open like she was a deer or some other wild animal.” “Shut up,” the man says as he shakes the child harder. “Put the kid down,” the officer tries to say but the words just fall to the ground. “Another, I fucked her while she bleed out all over my garage floor,” Jason begins to laugh but it is not the laughter of a child. “Shut the fuck up,” the man says as he wraps his powerful hands around Jason’s throat. The man squeezes as hard as he can as Jason fights to say something, “I prefer to asphyxiate my victims and I save it for the special ones.” Too weak to move Jason hangs there as the man begins to shake him once again, “I said shut up.” “Put the kid down,” the officer tries again. The officer rises to his feet, “What’s another dead piece of shit?” The cop fires all of the remaining bullets, but one into the man’s body. The cop takes the burning hot barrel and places it into his mouth blowing out the back of his head. Back up finally arrives on the scene to find all the dead people on the ground.

True fucking story I tell the people across from me. A few of them are my friends and a few of them aren’t.  They even have a name for what happened even though most of the people back home like to pretend it never happened. “What’s it called I’ll Google it right now?” a naïve girl asks from across the fire. “You won’t get any signal out here. We are in the middle of nowhere,” another girl says. “Okay whatever I’ll write it down and look it up later what was it called?” As dramatically as I can be I tell them what it was called. It is called the Memorial Day Incident. “What kind of fucking name for something is that? That stories such bull shit,” the girl says. “No it really happened,” a friend of mine says. “Okay then what happened to Jason?” I start to say something, before being cut off. “I want him to tell me,” she demands. “What happened to Jason? That’s what you want to know?” my friend asks. The girl nods her head, “Yeah what happened to Jason?” “Jason died that’s what happened to him. The large man shook him so hard that his neck snapped,” the friend explains as he looks over at me. “I still think it is all bull shit, but whatever. Who else has an actual scary story to tell?”

More short stories and stories like this can be found in Drinking Bleach… my book of short stories… now available on Amazon… check out some more cool stuff on Threadless… and tell me how much I suck over on Twitter… I feel so dirty… but my doctors tell me I have to eat… and to pay their bills… bunch of quacks if you ask me…

Shorter Is Always Better…

Only Way This Ends

Weak against the strong
The current will carry us all
How you treat one
Will determine how we fall
Weak against the strong
The current situation affects us all
The weak verses the strong
The weak against the strong
Who will kill us all

 

Five More Minutes

Running out of things to say
Might be time to take a break
And run away
A way from the guilt
All the pain
Times are tough even
With a mind full of shit to say
Wish it all could go away
Treated, medicated the time has passed
Forgetting, forgiveness it all couldn’t last
Can’t let go of the past
Dreading the future of all things left
Predicting predictions full of shit
Time last forever in my head

 

Chewing On Glass Logo

Chewing On Glass

Going retro with the logo today… Which despite being done by the amazing artist… Jock… doesn’t really fit the whole aesthetic of what I’m trying to do here… then again what the fuck am I doing here?… haha… also I don’t own the rights to the art… though I did at more blood… pixel by pixel… okay I added five red squares of blood and then said fuck it… I think I am still legally protected by fair use laws… (I’m not sure… but if I had to guess… I am not protected at all…)

So why am I talking about old logos?… well lately I have been thinking of revamping the website… adding more pages… more logos… some other shit… which got me thinking about making short films and GIFs… because that’s how my brain works… and because I don’t have enough shit to avoid at the moment… really I just want more blood… lots of blood… like the scene in the Shining… 

blood wall

My favorite part about this movie… and this scene… is when the blood splashes against the white wall… I looked for a longer GIF… but this was the best one… the chaos of it all… sends shivers done my spine… shivers of excitement… hopefully I am retreading on facts you already know… but Kubrick was somehow able to convince the ratings board at the time… that all that red was rusty water… that to me alone is insane… great film if you haven’t seen it… you should… “I’m not going to hurt cha”….

Anyway… more blood… that is where this was going… more blood… darker images… and a thousand more broken promises… things to look forward to… on Chewing On Glass… 

Threadless… Merch… Amazon… Books… Etsy… Art… Twitter… Broken Thoughts… 

Post Script of the Unimaginative (Vulgar)

Nothing good has ever come of this
The truth in lies is full of shit
I think I have all the answers
Locked away inside my head
In reality I have nothing and I’m fine with it
Ignorance truly is bliss
So are lies you can’t resist

“I want to jerk off onto the sores of her mouth. If anything just to see if it will hurt.”

I haven’t slept in days
What if I told you that was okay
I ate last week
Think it all went away
Malnutrition and withering away
I may be dying in a slow way
What if this was okay
Gave it up all the same
Wish I could explain
What it is that I am trying to say

A common theme, what am I doing here?…

The past always seemed okay
Reflecting back I see where all the trouble comes from
Abused, abandoned, threatened
The humor becomes more of a nightmare
A sense of something so much bigger than myself

Nothing relevant when everything is so irrelevant…

A bible left on a bench
Verses stuck in my head
Bleeding for a cause
Dying for the dead
Waiting at the end of the world
Too afraid to try anything new
Human unlike you
The times disappear, the years
Coughing up blood from all the fun
Destroying everything I love
Locked away in my mind
All that matter at this time

My lips are so chapped and it hurts… biting off… peeling off the little bits of skin… lips are bleeding… enjoying the pain… renewing the resistance that lies within… Random thought… Despite the plan to make this an easy month on myself… I think this is the hardest month I’ve ever had… I hope you are all enjoying the Broken Thoughts… It’s more like a cracked out twitter… I rather like the name of this post… Happened upon it by accident… Like all my words…

Opened up a Shop on Threadless… Pretty excited about it… Only have a few designs at the moment but I am working on more…

https://chewingonglass.threadless.com/

I have basic designs as well… love to hear what you think… good idea… dumb idea… I value your opinions…

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Purgatory Part 2

“You know who I want to hear from?” After a very long awkward pause the voice continues, “I would like to hear from Franklin. Would you like to share today Franklin.” “It’s Frank dipshit,” the man riddled with bullet holes stands up. “You don’t have to stand up Franklin,” Sylvia says before laughing. Frank slams his body back into the seat, “Do I have a choice?” “Of course you have a choice. Being here isn’t punishment. Being here is to help you.” Frank shifts in his seat, “Yeah okay cause it sure as hell feels like punishment. We either talk or we have to go sit out there with the rest of the freaks waiting to come back in here. Not a whole lot of options for us here. Despite her smart ass comments I’m with Sylvia on this place. This is all bullshit, but I want out of here so what do you want to hear?” “Why do you think that you are here?” the figure asks him like he just volunteered to die or that in some way this was all optional. Thanks for taking twenty plus bullets to the chest and coming here. Would you mind filling out a small survey? Would you recommend this place to a friend? I’m starting to agree with Sylvia more and more myself. “I am here because those pig fuckers shot the shit out of me.” Frank tries to grab his shirt to show the figure his bullet holes, but he can’t and he quickly gives up. “There has to be a reason they shot at you.” “Yeah cause I was trying to get a little cash for my family.” “Oh yeah that’s real rich their Frankie. That totally justifies the reason you tried to rob a bank,” the business man blurts out as he shakes his head in disbelieve. “Fuck you old man. I did what I had to do to get by.” “Well what you did was against the law that’s why they shot your ass.” “Howard please let Frank speak you can have your turn when he is done,” the figure explains. “I was simply commenting on what Frank was saying.” “The freak said shut the fuck up lard ass.” These people are insane and I try to stay calm through all of it. I want to start getting upset too, but I know that it won’t help any of this. Frank starts back up with his story, “Anyways I took a bullet or two and now I’m here paying for my sins or whatever.” “Is that what you truly believe Frank?” The figure asks him. “I said it didn’t I? So yeah that’s what I fucking believe.” Frank looks over at Sylvia, “You think the freak’s got a brain under there? Cause he is pretty stupid.” Sylvia still isn’t talking and pretends that Frank isn’t even talking. “That’s not a very nice thing to say Frank, but are you done?” “Yeah I am.” “Can I say a few things?” “Like I give a shit,” Frank crosses his arms. “You really need to stop holding in all this blame and anger towards others. Realize that you might be the cause of your own misfortunes. No one told you to rob that bank or take those people hostage Frank. You made all those decisions yourself and you need to forgive yourself before it consumes you any farther.” “I didn’t shoot anybody you fucking freak. I didn’t shoot no body and yet here the fuck I am,” Frank screams causing everyone in the room to jump a little bit. As we all watch Frank place his head in his hands I think that this all sounds rather familiar to me somehow. The figure says nothing back to Frank and Frank doesn’t lash out as he walks to the corner of the room. Another somber moment in a place that is nothing but.

Breaking the silence. “I have a question for you. What are you?” I ask the figure. The hooded figure sits motionless and I try to look under the hood. Looking for eyes, a mouth, anything that could confirm what it is. All I find is darkness. Beth places her hand on my knee, “You can’t ask it things about itself.” “Why not?” I question. “It is just the way it is sweetie,” she shrugs at me. “What do you think it is?” I ask the group. “I think it’s a freak,” Frank shouts from the corner of the room. “Yeah we know,” Sylvia shouts back as she rolls her eyes. “We think it is the grim reaper or our idea of a grim reaper,” she says to me. The hooded figure finally speaks, “Howard you had something you wanted to say earlier?” We go on as if no one had said anything at all about the figure. “Ah, yes I did. I wanted to tell the group my story.” “Oh dear God,” Sylvia blurts out before going silent once again. She stares at her gashes. She traces the outline of the cut on her left arm with her finger. “My dear Sylvia, such a pretty name, James has yet to hear my story,” Howard says before turning to face me. He locks eyes with me and I can’t help but to not look right at him for his story. I’m more interested in hearing Frank’s story and trying to figure out why it sounds so familiar to me. Respect for others forces me to put that in the back of my mind as I listen to this old man’s tale.

By the way Howard speaks to me and the rest of the group it is as if he is selling us his story. “I have always been a salesman. From the time I was a small child selling candy on the school yard playground and until the moment I found myself here. I sell that’s what I do. It is in my blood, in my DNA. Hell I even convinced my neighbor to purchases my father’s lawn mower once. Slightly used I told him. My father was so pissed. I had to give my neighbor his ten dollars back. That was a lot of money back then, but with everything there is always something to be learned. I learned right then and there that with a strong enough pitch, a kind smile, and a great deal you can sell anything. I also learned to not sell my father’s things as well,” Howard chuckles. “Howard how did you die again?” Sylvia asks and he ignores. “If this story doesn’t end with you choking on a dick. I know I’m going to be disappointed by this story.” I try to not laugh or move my face in any way. “Always be selling became my motto by the time I was out of high school. I was such a good sales man I didn’t even have to go to college. I had, had a job since I was old enough to acquire one, and with my great talent and passion I was able to move up to head of the sales team in no time. I remember the days of the sale, out there on the open road selling my amazing products from customer to customer, city to city. These were the days before personal computers, the days were a phone call was only used to catch up when a letter would not suffice. Not like today where you kids have your gadgets glued to your hands. You kids today could learn a thing or two from talking face to face the way God intended for us to talk to one another. No these were the good old days, the all or nothing days, the days when making a living meant working your ass to the bone and asking for more.” “We fucking get it old man, Jesus.” “How are you Frank? You could learn thing or two as well from my story.” “Yeah like what? Cause I’m already dead dumb ass.” “You could afford to learn a little thing called respect and about working hard. Not just sitting on your ass and taking what’s not yours.” “It wasn’t like that,” Frank walks back over to the group. “You tried to rob a bank to get money that wasn’t yours that’s how it was Frank,” Howard says to the group looking for reassurance. “Wait a second, that was you,” I say. “That was me what?” “That was you who tried to rob some bank in Atlanta?” “Yeah so what?” Frank asks. “It was all over the national news. That happened months ago or at least I think it was months ago. No one else saw the story?” they all stare at me as though I am crazy. “I meant before you all died?” “Well it was against the law that’s why it was all over the news and that’s why they shot you so many times. How many times do I have to say that before you understand?” “Shut up Howard I’m talking to the new guy. What do you mean it was all over the national news?” Frank asks me. “It was ever where or so I thought. I’m trying to remember what all happened. It happened months ago, but I remember hearing about how three or four cops were suspended and then fired for using excessive force because you didn’t even rob the bank with a real gun or something. Plus there was something about the fact that the dead hostage wasn’t your fault either.” “Who killed him then?” Howard asks. “Apparently one of the officers thought they had a shot or was trying to be a hero. Well the gun fire scared the old man and he fainted on to the floor.” “I told him to stay down, but he wouldn’t listen so I started shouting and then the noise went off.” “Right well I guess in the confusion the cops thought you shot him so they all started firing on you. Turns out the man would have been fine, but they shot him and injured three others firing on you.” Frank stands there stunned and silent. He looks as though some revelation has come over him. “Is that all that happened?” Sylvia asks me. “Was I on the news too?” “I don’t remember,” I tell her. “After that band killed themselves and everything that followed the news stopped reporting on suicides. They even stopped reporting on suicide bombers in the Middle East. Anything to try and stop people from killing themselves.” “That fucking band. That band fucking sucked anyways,” Sylvia crosses her arms and leans back into her chair. “What about my family?” Frank asks me. “What happened to my family?” “The last I heard they were suing the city along with the other families, but beyond that I can’t remember anything,” I tell him. “Frank how does that news make you feel?” The figure asks. “I feel. I feel better. For the first time since I have died. I finally feel better about everything. It might have been worth it. I knew what I did was wrong but I didn’t even have a weapon. I took a toy gun that I painted black. I figured worst case I’d get some jail time. I never thought that I would die. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake.” Frank turn to me, “Thank you James. Thank you so very much.” “You’re welcome Frank. I mean I didn’t do anything,” I say shyly. All I did was repeat the news on TV. Frank begins to weep and cover his tearless face with his hands. “Frank,” the figure says in a light voice unlike its self. Frank looks up from his hands and his face is covered with small streams of tears. “You may leave now Frank. Exit the room and continue down the hall. At the end of the hall there is one last door. It will look like a wall with a handle. Once you touch the handle you will know what to do.” Frank wipes the tears from his face as we all sit and stare. Everyone is very confused as to what is happening. Frank turns to me once again, “Thank you James.” The bullet holes, the blood, the wounds disappear as Frank stands up and walks to the door. The room is silent as he exits, but the second he is gone the whole room erupts with noise. All the noise is a collection of different questions with all the same intentions. What else do you know? Everyone is out of their chairs and standing in front of me demanding answers. “I don’t know, I don’t know,” is all I repeat. “Enough questions everyone,” the figure says in its usual tone. “James is not the reason behind Frank’s ascension to the next level. James doesn’t hold the secret clues or answers to why you have died or are still here. Each and every one of you hold those keys. That is enough for today. Next time we will start with Howard again,” the figure gestures to the open door. “What? Why? Let’s just power through this. I mean we made real progress today.” “Can’t we stay for a little bit longer?” “Yeah we want to stay.” “I’m sorry but we are done for today.” “This is bullshit.” “Give it a rest will you Sylvia,” Beth says as she stands up. No one waits for the figure to get to the door this time. Again I am the last to leave the room. “I’m sorry if I offended you earlier by ask you what you are,” I tell the figure. “It is alright James. You have questions that want answers. Demand them even, but maybe it is you who need to wonder what you are?” Confused I exit the room. The door slamming behind me.

Sylvia is waiting for me in the hallway. “That was some trippy shit wasn’t it?” She asks me. “Yeah I guess. This whole place is trippy if you ask me. How long have you been here?” “No idea, it’s hard to tell time in a place with no windows or concept of it. When did that band die?” “Sometime last year,” I say to her. “So I have been here almost a year.” “And this is the first time you’ve seen some one pass over?” I ask. “Yeah, it was. But I mean I’ve heard of other people passing over or going away from other groups. So personally this was my first. I guess this place isn’t a bunch of bull shit after all.” “What do you think happens after we pass over?” “Fuck if I know. I didn’t even think that this was going to happen.” “Yeah me either,” I say staring at the floor. “Cheer up will you. You are about to be pretty fucking popular here after what just happened. Word gets around,” she smiles at me. “How? No one even talks around here.” “Are you kidding me? Some people don’t ever shut the fuck up.” “Yeah okay,” I huff as we make it back to the waiting area. “Where do you normally sit?” Sylvia asks me. I point to the far right corner. “Yeah we all got to start somewhere. That’s the newbies corner so course they are going to not talk. Those people are scared. Not far from that we have Freaksville. That’s where the messed up one go after they have been here awhile. If you aren’t messed up than you don’t belong there so don’t bother going. Then you have general pockets of people that haven’t been here that long. See over here and over there,” she points. “Why are you telling me all of this?” I ask. “Why the hell not? Lastly that side of the room is mostly filled with the people that have been here the longest. They are not the nicest of people. Real assholes if you ask me,” she walks me over to where she usually sits. “If this is Purgatory than where are the children?” I ask. “No idea. Take a seat.” I take a seat next to her as I look around the room. Already there are a lot of eyes looking in our directions. Sylvia gives off a little laugh and a fake smile, “See just like I told you.” “You weren’t kidding.” “Nope, you are going to be very popular. Too bad you don’t have anything to show for it. Might here some good stories though.” “Who’s that guy sitting over there with all the tattoos?” I ask her. “The one who’s staring you down like you’re a piece of meat at an all you can eat dinner?” “Umm, yeah that guy.” “That’s Layne Ambrose. Stay away from him if you can. That man’s got some real serious issues. He’s already been kicked out of several groups. I heard he even tried to bite someone in the one of the groups.” “We can do that?” “Bite some one? No we can’t do that James were not vampires. Though that would make this strangely worth it all. The most we can do is touch, but it’s pointless because we can’t feel it. We can’t do much of anything in this hell hole.” “Tell me about it. What about those two girls over there?” I ask. “What about them?” “What’s their story?” “How am I supposed to know?” She punches me in the arm, “You got a crush?” My arm stings a little, “No.” “You didn’t have a lot of friends when you were alive did you?” “No, not really,” I say awkwardly. “Yeah, that’s because you ask too many damn questions.”

Drinking Bleach is my first collection of short stories from my earlier days… It is a mixed genre book filled with short stories, poems, micro stories, and more… From the early days of Chewing On Glass to the first story I ever wrote… This book covers a lot of ground… As always available on Kindle… Don’t have a Kindle?… That’s okay… Enjoy thousands of books right from your desktop, smart phone, or tablet with the Kindle app… Now available in paper back…

Drinking Bleach Preview (Vulgar)

Something Sinister

This story started a long time ago before now and before your greedy fucking eyes ever got a hold of it. Like the great tumbling ball of shit that is my life it is all the same ball of shit. People will lie, change the truth, anything to making a fucking dollar so, here is the truth so you too can change it later to fit into your own tale of how fucked up I really am. Are you listening to what I am saying? Are you paying attention? Good, I just want to say one thing to you before we start. I am legend and you’re just jealous. Fuck off. Oh and I didn’t bother thinking any of this over so deal with it. God you are such an asshole.

It all start, this all started when I fell down the stairs. I think it was maybe five years ago, but I can’t really be held accountable for minute details. We have a lot to cover so a detailed timeline is really just a waste of time so stick with me and put your fucking hand down. Time isn’t everything people. Back to my God damn story, I fell down the stairs and of course it wasn’t a simple fall down the fucking stairs. I couldn’t just break my arm or a fucking leg, no I had to break both of my useless good for nothing shitty appendages, an arm, and worse of all my fat ass fell so quickly and with all the laws of gravity not on my fucking side I had to crash through the door at the bottom of the stairs. The same damn door my wife told me to change out years ago. The same fucking door she continues to bitch about despite the fact that it’s long since been replaced. Well that shitty door had to break my fall and shatter into a million pieces, all except one piece mind you. That one was nice enough to stay fucking put. That one piece stayed real fucking strong as it went through my back bringing my wild ride to a quick stop. Ever have to spit blood out of your mouth to stop from drowning in it? Well that’s too damn bad. Tastes like shit, actually it tastes like I had a wild idea to drag my tongue across a rusty pipe just for the fuck of it. The damage was done from that point on I was fucked, but of course I had to push my luck. Hold on this is a great fucking song. “You’re so scared and so alone.” I had to keep going on and keep on living because God knows that’s what I wanted at that fucking second with the EMT’s standing over debating what would be the best way to move me. My spine was damaged this was true. IT is also true that if my spine wasn’t damaged I might have died from the pure shock of having both of my legs broken in multiple places. Couldn’t feel the fuckers. I could barely feel anything. My spine was damaged but for some God damn reason my spine wasn’t severed. For some God damn forsaken reason there was still hope for me yet. There was a special surgery the doctors said that I might be able to have that could reverse the damage and give me one more chance to land the dismount. Too bad it cost an arm and a leg, and I was fresh out of legs. This magical surgery was all thanks to those demigods up on the hill. You know those ones that want to advance stem cell research so they can help turn some unwanted child into a new limb or body part for some sad sack of shit solider no one gave a fuck about in the first place. Fuck did I miss that up? Fuck it, fix it later. What I am saying is that congress recently passed a bill or a law or whatever that allowed the use of stem cells for those who could afford it. All I needed was half a million dollar or find someone to pay for it. So I did what anyone in my financial standing would do. I went to the bank and pulled five hundred thousand dollars out of my personal just encase life fucked you in the ass account. All in ones of course and made it rain all over his office like he was Candy from Sweet Charles Strip Club and BBQ lucky day. So began my next chapter in life strapped into a wheel chair shitting on myself. The fun chapter really. Half price dances is nothing to shake a stick at. Funny how the health bill fell flat on its fucking face, but stem cell use got the ok. Small victory for ignorance and one giant leap for the future. Yeah I’m that bitter.

Thanks to the wheel chair I know found my fat ass sitting in I lost my job. It is a little hard to lift fifty pound boxes of produce from the safety and comfort of a chair with wheels. I needed to find a new career path, a new way so to speak not that my last one was really anything worth losing to begin with, but there comes a time in a man’s life, maybe a woman’s too though I was beginning to understand what life meant without a penis, that he has to make a decision. Sometimes though that decision isn’t made by one’s own hand. It was at this time that I had to look deep within myself to figure out what it was that I wanted to do with my new found sense of existence. I knew I needed money so I could shut my wife up about the fucking surgery. I knew I didn’t want to go to work at any place with human beings. I knew a lot of things I didn’t want to do basically, but what I found in my hours of cheap whiskey and a crotch full of Candy was the inspiration to write. Something I hadn’t done since I dropped out of college all those years ago. It wasn’t like I was hiding some deep unearned skill deep within myself, but who has the fucking time when they are knee deep in the bullshit called life? Whatever, thanks to my horrible accident I was able to find my voice once again. All good artist must suffer and I had plenty of it thanks to my impending position. So that is what I did day in and day out I wrote. Drank a little bit too much and then wrote some more. Paid Candy to play with my flaccid dick and I wrote some more. Every second of every day I used putting pen to paper, paper into computer, and back and forth until I had something, until I had a story worth writing about. My story, well a version of my story I’m sure you have all read my book by now If I Could Only Get It Up. No? Then why the fuck are you here right now. Go buy a fucking copy, pop your pants off, and come back to me when you have finished. Why the fuck are you even reading this? Because you like reading stories about human suffering? You’re a fucking selfish prick aren’t you? Good than you and I have something in common at least on a surface co-hatred and contempt for anyone that isn’t us. Though I have to say it is a lot like preaching to the stupid. Still with me? Fan-fucking-tastic let’s move on. It took two years of fighting, clawing and scratching, sucking and fucking to get that piece of shit book printed and pressed and in the hands of you dick lickers, and it would take another two before I could even make enough money to put a down payment on the surgery. Yeah they have those. I was as surprised as you to say the least, but it makes sense if you can walk again you can make money. Oh yeah the health industry will suck the life right out of you just like any other. The way it is when everything is for profit. Honestly though if you are figuring that out right now as I tell you please don’t forget to visit my website where you can buy some more bullshit to complete your empty life.

Even after all the record breaking sales of my book by a first time writer. America really loves a tragedy. Hey kids want to get famous saw your legs off and see what happens. Okay don’t do that find your own God damn way to milk the tit that is the American conscious. Run for president or something the point is that I still didn’t have enough money to pay for my operation out right, but I did have enough credit with the publishing company to barter my soul for the money I still needed. They were just thrilled to hand over several hundred thousand dollars to me so I could fucking walk again because apparently it is really expensive to send a cripple on a book tour. Heartless fucking ass clowns that they are. Oh and plus America likes a redemption story so, they had me sign a paper that said they could release my next three books. Lucky me. I know what you are thinking holy shit he gets to write three more books. He is so blessed, yeah well fuck you because now I had to produce three more fucking books without a single fucking idea. Do you know what kind of pressure that has on a fragile mind? Yeah you don’t, what it is like is telling the bank you can pay them back the whole loan in than five years without a fucking job. Good luck, hope everything works out for you because it’s not. So here I am recovering from my operation and trying to come up with something to get those fucking heathens off my back. They are blood thirsty, it may not seem that way, but they really are some blood thirsty no talent fucking cunts. They’re like vampires in the night. Constantly calling, “How’s the book going? How’s this going? Are you feeling better?” Assholes, they can’t even come up with their own God damn idea so, they suck the ideas out of writers as quickly as they can, and when they are done with us we are just cast aside like a dry husk of what was once a human. Vampires of ideas are what this whole industry is like. It torments me every second of every day and with all this stress and rehab my head is like a tornado of shit smashing from one side of my skull to the other. My head feels like a pinball machine that has been well used. A bit dated of a reference but needless to say the stress is getting to me at this point. But I’m not even sure if it is the stress of everything lately or the God damn operation. I’m on a strict regimen of headache medicine, pain killers, and a great amount of alcohol but I still can’t get rid of this pain in my head. The only thing that I have found that actually gets rid of the pain in my head is not really accepted by society as a whole. Maybe a few societies out there but not many. I’m getting a head of myself hold on let me get back on track.

Okay so I told you ass stains about my problem with the books I have to write for the vampires that’s the climax. So all we really need is some falling action to really get your panties soaking wet. I bet you wear lacy ones that you think are so sexy as they stretch around your curves, but you never show anyone because you are a highly regarded person in your community and if you’re a lady I’m confused as to why you’d bother wearing nay at all. If my mind wasn’t a blender on puree I’d probably have this story written out already and you could move on to more pressing matters of life. Months went by as I tried to decide what to write next. I had already used up my asshole card so I couldn’t write another book about telling the world to fuck off or a book literally about assholes. I had no ideas and the longer that I had no ideas the worse the pain in my head got. It got so bad I had to start taking more drugs and mix in other ones to try and numb the pain for a little. This time period should have been the best time of my life and it was quickly growing worse and worse. I could walk again, I had an extremely successful first novel, and yet I was too busy trying to drown out my pain. I started to take walks around this time mostly to get away from the bitching at home and because for the first time in a long time I could. It was during one of these walks that something extraordinary happened. I got the pain to finally go away. Not permanently but long enough so I could think. It wasn’t runners high or something stupid like that it was survivors high. Is that even thing? I don’t know, but while I was walking one night down in the shitty part of town some asshole came up to me waving a gun in my face. Telling me to give him all my money or he would waste me right there like I was a piece of trash someone didn’t want anymore. I don’t know if it was the third of bourbon I had in me or the fact that I was only carrying enough cash to get me more, but something rose up in me. A sense of calm I had never experienced before. I calmly looked the young man in the eyes and I told him to stop waving that gun in my face before I take it way and shove it up his ass. He wasn’t too thrilled by that scenario and as he placed the cold barrel right up against my forehead and demanded his demands all over again I thought maybe I wouldn’t either. I waited for the loud bang to echo through my skull as I somehow survived the odds for the second fucking time.

I’m just fucking with you. Why the fuck would I be walking around the shitty part of town like some commoner? Seriously though I’ve butchered like six women in the last year. It was actually easier than you might think and it really did make the headaches go away, but they only go away for a little while. I have found that the only way to make my headaches go away long enough is to skin a woman alive and listen to her scream. Slowly of course because there is something about hearing their screams of pain as I torment them piece by piece that just melts my own pain away like butter on a hot knife. Oh stop your, “That’s so wrong fucking judgements,” you’re passing through your head fucked up head right now. Who the fuck are you to even judge me in the first place? You bought the fucking book about how I committed each crime in full detail. I mean this is only the fucking forward, the preface of a book called How I Committed Each Crime and You Paid Me to Do It. I know, I know it is a really long fucking title, but the vampires didn’t really get my original title, Knife in your Vagina. I thought it was catchy, but nope you the readers just get a slap in the face. They also didn’t get the concept of each page being made from human skin or at the very least the cover. Gave them a prototype and everything. You didn’t think that I would let anything go to waste did you? Oh well go ahead and get on with it. Go ahead and read the rest of the God damn book. Long story short the critics will just laugh it off as a fictional tale of my deeply deprived mind raised on junk food and twisted tales of horror and rape, but know this dear reader I am really something sinister.

 

Looking for something different?… Drinking Bleach is my first collection of short stories from my earlier days…. It is a mixed genre book filled with short stories, poems, micro stories, and more…. From the early days of Chewing On Glass to the first story I ever wrote… This book covers a lot of ground… As always available on Kindle. Don’t have a Kindle? That’s okay. Enjoy thousands of books right from your desktop, smart phone, or tablet with the Kindle app… Now Available in Paper back…