Aug 2017
I've been walking past the same dinosaur ******* a dozen times and it doesn't bother me. What bothers me though, is the threatening message that is faded and smudged out in the bathroom's handicapped stall. I can barely read it saying "Carl something, I will find where you live something something. Above the message reads a cryptic proposition: 416-818-9120 Jay. What kinda sick fun could the number propose.
As I walk out I see the extinctee's gaping cavity release nutrients for the thirteenth time. I feel like someone important in some kind of cerebral movie; especially the fact that I've found a newly discovered purpose in my life. As well the clothes they have given me add a prominence of flare and swagger. My friend catches up to me asking about something, I don't really hear him. I find a pay phone and punch in the digits. The phone rings but no answer. Disappointed, I walk away, but the phone then rings. I pick it up and hear only heavy breathing. I don't know what to say. I say nothing.
He then says: "This is Jay."
He spares me the details and he or she tells me to meet him at the Slovenian BLED HALL.
"What's there?"
Click . . . I ruffage through my bag for a change of clothes, I don't know why -- a muscle shirt and sweat pants with lobsters and oranges on them. I leave the duffle bag. My friend and I jump in the car and pin it.
On arrival, I see a dirt path that leads us to a white church in the middle of a stray field. The paint is chipped off from harsh weather, windows are smashed, and brown is smeared on the front porch.
"Maybe we shouldn't do this" my friend says.
I ignore him. I walk up the sticky steps and open the creaky entrance door. The room is filled entirely with candles, ceremonial red paint cover the walls, and my friend has only a bad feeling about all of this. He wants to leave.
"You shall not leave" the voice of Jay echoes.
"Who is that?"
"I summoned you. You shall not ask any questions, and you shall not leave. You with the pants. I want you to undress your friend."
My heart sinks. I have no choice. I feel a dozen other men staring at me behind the darkness, their daggers pointing rock hard at me. I feel like I'm in a gay ***** film now. My friend starts to sob as I undress him. Shut up, you'll be fine. He is shaking, his mind in shock. The cauldron bubbles at the end of the room. I know what must be done.
We both stare down at the scolding hot ***. He's literally begging me to change his mind and it really gets on my nerves. I throw him in head first. His scrawny legs dangle upwards. He pops out, holding his burning face, his guttural screams echoe the chamber. One of the men hands me their dagger. With one swift and easy motion, I slit his throat. His body descends, his life no longer a struggle, he is now simply being cooked. I hope these guys don't try to **** me.
As I walk out I see the extinctee's gaping cavity release nutrients for the thirteenth time. I feel like someone important in some kind of cerebral movie; especially the fact that I've found a newly discovered purpose in my life. As well the clothes they have given me add a prominence of flare and swagger. My friend catches up to me asking about something, I don't really hear him. I find a pay phone and punch in the digits. The phone rings but no answer. Disappointed, I walk away, but the phone then rings. I pick it up and hear only heavy breathing. I don't know what to say. I say nothing.
He then says: "This is Jay."
He spares me the details and he or she tells me to meet him at the Slovenian BLED HALL.
"What's there?"
Click . . . I ruffage through my bag for a change of clothes, I don't know why -- a muscle shirt and sweat pants with lobsters and oranges on them. I leave the duffle bag. My friend and I jump in the car and pin it.
On arrival, I see a dirt path that leads us to a white church in the middle of a stray field. The paint is chipped off from harsh weather, windows are smashed, and brown is smeared on the front porch.
"Maybe we shouldn't do this" my friend says.
I ignore him. I walk up the sticky steps and open the creaky entrance door. The room is filled entirely with candles, ceremonial red paint cover the walls, and my friend has only a bad feeling about all of this. He wants to leave.
"You shall not leave" the voice of Jay echoes.
"Who is that?"
"I summoned you. You shall not ask any questions, and you shall not leave. You with the pants. I want you to undress your friend."
My heart sinks. I have no choice. I feel a dozen other men staring at me behind the darkness, their daggers pointing rock hard at me. I feel like I'm in a gay ***** film now. My friend starts to sob as I undress him. Shut up, you'll be fine. He is shaking, his mind in shock. The cauldron bubbles at the end of the room. I know what must be done.
We both stare down at the scolding hot ***. He's literally begging me to change his mind and it really gets on my nerves. I throw him in head first. His scrawny legs dangle upwards. He pops out, holding his burning face, his guttural screams echoe the chamber. One of the men hands me their dagger. With one swift and easy motion, I slit his throat. His body descends, his life no longer a struggle, he is now simply being cooked. I hope these guys don't try to **** me.
storytime
