fishbeer

Jul 9 2010 2:52 pm

I'm not the stabby kind

It was like when you were a kid and you were in the city and you lost track of your mommy or your daddy or whomever the fuck you had supposedly watching over you.  You stood there in the middle of the sidewalk melting into tears and the passersby dared not take notice and your mouth gaped into a grotesque frown as glycerin saliva ran down your chin and from your nose.  You wailed and you wailed but your mommy or your daddy or whomever the fuck you had supposedly watching over you never came.  None of the passersby stopped either, those callous city pricks.  You took a couple short hiccup sobs and closed your stupid mouth.  You rubbed your eyes with the backs of bent wrists.  You looked around.  Then you just started walking.  Then this happened and that happened blah blah, but all that really matters is in the end you stabbed that stupid bitch in the throat in Utah and got the chair or the chemicals or maybe even the firing squad, whatever those weirdo hicks have down there.


Now I’m not saying I’m the stabby kind, but if I run across a pickup with a busted right front headlight and blue paint on the bumper I might just stab the owner in the throat.  Over and over and over again.   


And by the by, Sherer Speed was up for a very pleasant visit.  He caught a nice brown.  The end.

 

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