Facebook decided to change their whole format and wouldn’t you know it that I found something that I had erased years ago. Apparently when you delete something on Facebook it never truly gets deleted; this little story is proof. It was posted on March 13, 2009, but as you can see from the introduction, it was written sometime in 2008 or 2009. I won’t take full responsibility for its content because … well … just read the intro, you’ll get the idea.
This is a little short story that I wrote while I was in a drunken stupor about a year or so ago. It is funny (I think, anyway), but in a really twisted way. But, then again, I am not really that far off from the psych ward anyhow. Just a little disclaimer: There is plenty of offensive words and subjects in here. But, it isn’t to be taken seriously. God knows I wasn’t in a serious mood when I wrote it. And, no. It isn’t about me. It is just random, drunken writing. So, here goes.
Beep, beep, beep!
I cry awake for a new day. I shutter at the feeling that my dreams were only a far away place. Fantasy! Reality sets in like a stack of bricks; heavy and cold. How much I’d love to flick the shutter and make it all go away. Back into the slumberous dreamworld of the alternate reality. Very much like a slow-still, dreams are funny like that. They make reality bend while you slumber. You can be whatever you want or whatever you dream to be… So to speak.
But, now is the reality.
And, I must face it.
How many times I have done it before, like a true stallion I face it… Life. It really begs, “show me the way”. But, that way is a wanton failure. Not quite failed. Very much still existent. However, it will always end in failure. Death=Failure. There is no ifs, ands or buts about it.
So, with that happy thought of true optimism I heave myself out of my medicated slumber and throw myself about as if I know what I am doing. I brush my teeth with a gag and wonder how many years my incisors have left; Two? Three? Ten? Who really knows? But, such is life. That of the careless of heart and of mind. I take a gander at the chronograph only to realize that I am falling behind. Not in life. But, definitely on the day. Ten minutes pass like a blur and all I can say to myself is “hurry up”!
“Sure buddy. That’ll happen”. (5 seconds is a lifetime)
And, I do just that; hurry. With that “hurry” comes the absence of mind that often sets one behind. You may forget only one thing in a hungover hurry. But, it is that ONE thing. That thing that cannot be done without. That banana. Oh, that banana. That drink of water to sooth that reservoir that the liquor has syphoned dry. Maybe your coat or just maybe that three hours of sleep that has put you into this confused stupor. I’d put my money on the sleep if I were a betting man.
I step out the door and it is quite brisk. I have nothing to shield the goose pimples on my flesh from the biting wind. Not adequate. But, it will do. As I take a hard B-line stride to my car I see a fat clump of feline quadruped furriness cross my path and circle behind. This mammal takes solace at the nape of my ankles and purrs. Normally, I would swing my foot at extremely high velocity at the humped and arched spine of this meowing creature. However, this fucking thing has some heat left in it, godammit. So, I pick him up and toss him into the auto.
I name him Otto. He is freaking out due to the fact that he is not used to his entire world moving at 70 MPH. Let alone doing so in a vehicle that shudders at the whim of the out-of-round tires that it rests upon. I stroke this feline creature so that I can sooth him and let him know that he has a friend in this world. He just hisses at me and tries to attack me with paws that hold no talons.
“Otto, you silly little cunt”, I say under a whisper.
To be sure, this cat is really starting to piss me off! He/she is meowing incessantly. I imagine my eardrums to be a flag flapping to the wind that is the noises coming out of Otto’s gaping orifice. There is no give to this mobile kitty cat torture machine. Each minute seems to last a screeching hour. This fucking animal is really beginning to bring out a beast in me. This beast usually starts out pretty quiet and gentle. But, this ball of fur is really pushing my buttons. The heater of the auto is blowing strong now, so strong that my eyes are as dry as the sands of time.
I ask myself, “why did I bring this fucking meowbox into my car”?
Good question. Why? Ah yes. Lack of sleep, lack of sense. That would be it, Franky.
I decide I need a smoke so a pop a cigarette into my mouth and push the lighter into its socket. Otto stops his annoying meow and stares straight at me. He senses a change of mood. A slight change of feelings. Maybe it is the fact that I have been staring at him now for the last 10 miles. Sure, I have been a courteous driver of the motorways. But, I have had an eye peeled at this furry fuck.
He knows. It is bone to bone and his probability of loss is exponentially great. So, what does this furry, hairball fuck do but spring straight for my eyeballs with his talonless tufts of fur that he likes to call paws. Sure, my eyes aren’t being torn to shreds. But, a cat boxing your eyelids is no laughing matter. Like Evander Hollifield in his heyday, Otto gives me a left cross and a right hook. Meanwhile, the motorists on the freeway are being less than congenial. I have to give it to that feline fuck. “Otto, you got me on round one”.
The bell rings in a new round. Rather, a fellow morning commuter on the roadway honks his pussy-horn at me.
So much like Bruce Willis reaching for the pistol in ‘Die Hard’, I reach for the automatic window button. I get the window half cracked and give Otto a good crack to his kitty jaw.
Holy Shit! It has only pissed him off more. This fucking cat is the Terminator. So, I decide to go completely hands free at the wheel and really handle this pussy. Just then I feel a tear of flesh in my lap.. Hind claws.
“You wise little fuck, You”.
Otto has punctured my cajones with the talons that reside in his hind quarter appendages.
“Oh, it’s ON now. Kitty”, I scream at the end of my breath. “Oh, it is definitely on”.
With both hands free of any other responsibilities I grab Otto’s head and start to smash it on the dash. I can see in his eyes that he is thoroughly dazed. He gives me a look that begs to say “what the fuck” as I hear “et tu, Brute” from some distant part of my imagination. Except he isn’t Ceaser and I ain’t Brutus. He’s Otto and I am Franky. But, he knows. His days, if not minutes, are numbered. I continue this motion until I am sure that I can overcome this pestilence and rid myself of it. Just as I see his eyelids start to close I toss him out of my half-open window. And, just in time, too. I look up to see that I have arrived at my exit.
I take the exit and have the feeling of a warrior that has taken on the entire Roman Army. I have battled and I have overcome. Veni, vidi, vici. I take a left and then a right and reflect.
“Man, I really kicked some kitty ass”, I say aloud heartily. “Fucked that pussy up, I did”, I declare to the morning darkness. As I pull into the parking lot I cannot wait to tell the guys in the office about this one. It’s a real zinger.