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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2145513
Rated: E · Short Story · History · #2145513
Look at me!

I am the one you have been looking for. These years of emptiness that drift behind you like a ragged shadow and distort your history can now be cut loose. Exorcise the ghosts that haunt your past and play with your present as if it were a soft toy. Their laughter was always a defence mechanism, and deep down you always knew it.

Look at me!

I am the one you have been looking for.

Forget your father. He was an idiot. What a shameful waste of a life, and blind to boot. When he looked at you he was filled with frustration and a disappointment so deep it could be measured in fathoms. What son would not wish to tread in his father's footsteps?

An artist, you say? What kind of abomination is this? A true and righteous occupation could only be achieved in serving ones country. This is your destiny, my boy! That is my wish for you to fulfill.

It is true, he was an idiot. But who is the real idiot? The idiot or the idiot who follows the idiot?

Just be thankful your grandfather had the foresight to change your paternal surname. How would Schicklgruber sound to the masses? It falls from the tongue in sporadic stutters, like diarrhea. His gift to you will be a curse for millions, so what's in a name?

Look at me!

You need to shave. You look like you belong here. The last person to sport a beard like that was nailed to a cross by the ancestors of those November Criminals. Have you sunk so low that you willingly adopt the facade of this fetid fantasy? You are nothing like these mutants. They thrive because they understand the purpose of the leech. As long as they are allowed to stick they will swell and swell.

They must be squashed. With a mighty fist.

Look at me!

We are that fist!



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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2145513