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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1246615-untitled
Rated: 18+ · Draft · Writing · #1246615
a brief intro to some work. please don't just read.
‘this day,’ she said in a determined, rising voice with two maniacal fingers extending from each hand - one went right through the earth and the other to her right eye. “believe NOT in what yestaday preached; the lies leadin you to curse, the bulbous, RAZOR-beaked starin faces driving you mad, the INNERvenous helpin’ of bullshit served up by pompous personalities. It is today we seek. It is seeing for real. It is knowing that right now, you are here and you, creature of freedom.. THIS is your moment as is the next.” She would often wail these existential philosophies long into each night until they forced meds in her. The only difference was whether or not anybody was around when she took the stage. Underweight, pasty white with thinning hair - a walking corpse. “need ta resolve our government!” she would cry, slamming herself against the wall. “It is clearly stated, CLEARLY STATED in the constitution of these united states that” … and so on like that. She was right. Maybe not about everything in her feverish performances, but something about her felt right and I always liked her for that.

I never questioned my often desperate, twisted assumptions about people. Then they would be right and I could never question being there. I was an observer - but I had some weird fetish for playing out someone’s entire life after seeing them for only ten minutes. Who they’d fucked, what made them tick, the cruel inner workings of the strange, unfamiliar minds constantly hovering around me. Maybe I was crazy but maybe you’re fighting far more terrible demons. Dinner. They rang a bell over the intercom so even the most sophisticated retard could find solace knowing their blended meal would soon be fed to them through a Dixie straw or plastic tablespoon. I liked to wait for the knocks. Then the threats. Those drugs were worth anything they could throw at me.

I answered at the third series of whacks. “Well Mr. Beauregard! Wouldn’t you like your food sometime tonight?“ Nurse Doe II. She was actually called Mary Knight but she was new. A middle-aged round black woman who must have used a spatula and blowtorch to apply her face. Her feet were the size of a small child’s and I can only imagine their strain as her ass must have crashed downward at well over thirty feet per second. Nurse Doe I, aka Luda Davies must have quit or better yet she’s down the hall licking mashed potatoes off of her knee, guarding her recent kill from potential predators. “Now you KNOW what they gon’ do if they don see you down there with all that good food,” she said feigning empathy. I knew damn well.
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1246615-untitled