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Hey Kids ever wonder why people are such a pain in the ****?
Well thats usally cause they have to work for a living and unless
your in **** that really ***** well I guess in that field you get paid to ****.
But enough about what certain people I cant mention do in there free time
im just saying.

And ever wonder kids why your parents are so ******* uptight?
Duh its cause befor you  mom and pop used to be total freaks.
Now Pop is lucky if he gets at least once a month from moms sister.
Yeah thats why they invented hookers I know what a ******* .

But enough about global warming cause really I just live here on the planet.
Why should I care about it?
Some people often ask me.
Gonzo dont you think you should put the bottle down and give up the drugs and *****
strippers?

Hmm yeah probaly when hell freezes over and hopefully it does cause I have never
looked forward to moving to a warmer climate.
Yeah sure I could stop being a party animal and ****** with a heart of gold.
But **** that duh then what would I write about?
Being misreble like everyone else really doesnt sound all that fun.

Hey ever wonder if im really insane as you belive.
Well just send me a key to your house and find out.

One time when  was but a young little Gonzo.
I stole Grandmas credit card and tried to hire a ******
for *** ed  class I always was a more hands on student myself .
Yeah it would have worked  if that old *****  hadnt noticed it gone

Thanks Granny you totally ruined a kickass party.
Its okay she talks to the wall in the old folks home now.
Im kidding  like id waste that sweet social security check on a home.

She's doing just fine in the shed out back ****** that reminds me i gotta
feed her and take her to the park for a good run yeah I know im all
heart except fro the rest of me.

You know I think it's unfair hookers never give discounts.
Hey look every other company does even ******* subway.
Yeah the footlong isnt really a footlong  some people really
dont know what to do with a tape messure.

Hey remember its not the size that matters yeah news flash
if she ses its a good size then locks herself in the bathroom
for a hour and you hear a motor going off as the lights dim
on the whole dam block .
Well women lie  just like men except way better.

Sometimes I like to get really ****** up
I know your shocked.

Ever wonder why weirdos love to hunt ufo's and bigfoot?
Duh you cant live off star treck reruns alone.

Some people think im a pervert and a drunk and a womanizer.
And a drug addict well and a sick ******* as well.
Words they really hurt well at least to people who give a *****.
Sure they said alot of good things about me but they also left out a charming
mispelling half wit duh what *******.

You know sometimes I think.
Hey it could happen.

Just remember kids whatever you think of me.
If you dont have a sense of humor you'll ******* hurt yourself.
That and Gonzo loves you all and especially if your hot.
And if you have any pics send em to www.learntotakeafuckingjoke.com

Untill next time hampsters.
Remember that little bump on some chicks face aint a beauthy
mark its probaly ******.

Dam you Cindy Crawford well at least i'll never forget you.
Im kidding she a good girl it was just the clap.

Stay crazy Gonzo
Fel Jan 2014
I close the door of the bathroom cabinet, revealing the figure standing in front of it. I tilt my head back, bring my hand up to my mouth, swallow, and feel the slightly farmiliar sensation of the little pill sliding down my throat. Anything that used to be normal is only slightly farmiliar now, an effect of these little pills.
I look up into the ghost in the mirror, the one that slightly resembles my own face. I can barely pick out the individual features, but I'm pretty sure that's me. I bring my hand back up to my face, this time to pull up my cheeks in something that somewhat looked like a smile. Yep, that's me all right. The hand moved to the left, and grabbed my ear, tugging at it. Slowly, it made its way across my whole face, surveying all my features, feeling everything. I'm still here. Wish I wasn't.
I sigh and continue staring at this ghost of a person. She looks tired, and *****. Her dark brown hair ******* in a messy, greasy bun on top of her head. Her once bright green eyes are now a dull brown. Her once flushed cheeks, now completely pale and lifeless, still bear the scars of the crash.
I sigh once more and turn around, almost losing my balance.
I start toward my room, remembering I have to do something today. Not school, nor work, nor anything else in particular. Well, of course there is a reason, but thinking of that reason makes everything clear and painful, so lets just keep things hazy and safe.
I pull my once too small jeans on, which are now extremely baggy on my scarred legs. I try to steady my shaky hands as I attempt the eyeliner, but give up, and remove the waterproof makeup. It's not like he will care, he can't see my face anymore.
A sudden stab of pain envelops within my chest as everything suddenly becomes clear and I can see his face, his beautiful face, laughing. I blackout and end up on the floor.
When my eyes open, they are greeted with the concerned eyes of my sister-in-law. She's holding my face, trying to wake me up. "Woah there, woah. Are you okay?"
I sit there thinking of what just happened and what she said. It takes me a moment, but I reply, "As okay as I ever am."
She rolls her eyes and sighs. "C'mon, get up. We have to do something today."
Another stab of pain as I remember where we're going today and what we're doing. I ***** on her as the pain overcomes me once more, this time not blacking out. Instead the images, the very ones I have countless nightmares about, flit across my mind. Every one bearing pain, bearing a very specific pain. I start to scream and convulse, as I claw the arms of my brother's wife.
My brother comes in to pull me off of her and put me onto my bed, as I continue screaming. I can very clearly feel the very farmiliar pain in the middle of my chest. It's as if 10, no. It's as if a 100, a 1000 knives are being shoved in, turning, breaking bones, slicing organs. And then it feels as if someone is spitting salted lemon juice into my wounds, stinging.
It's all in my head though. Everything I'm feeling is all in my head. And that's the problem right there. Why couldn't I have just died in the crash, why can't I just be gone already.
I blackout again. And when I wake up, both my brother and my sister-in-law are standing there, watching over me. I see that my sister-in-law has changed clothes. Their troubled faces brighten up a little as they watch my eyes open. Unsurprised. This happens every time we plan to go to the hospital to visit him in the ICU. It's happened before, many times, so they know what to do and how to calm me back down.
They help me up from my bed and out into the living room, where there is a tray of fried eggs and bacon sitting on the coffee table. Probably for me.
I disregard it and instead walk to the kitchen to grab the *****.
My sister-in-law was right there to stop me. "No no no, not this early. Besides," she says as she takes the bottle from my shaking hands, "you already took your medication."
I begin to protest, and quit, knowing that it was no use.
Asides from the ***** and my medication, they have baby-proofed the whole house because of me. All knives are locked up somewhere in the garage, any tool that could be used against myself gone. No rope, shoelaces, small appliances, or other things that I may use to **** myself. The ***** was out because they confiscated it from my room. I had shoplifted the liquor the other day, and was trying to start a collection so that I may drink several bottles of alcohol at once and overdose. Not too smart, they search my room all the time. I'm too drugged to even care. And my medication tastes too nasty to overdose on, asides from being nearly impossible to OD from.

In the car on the way to St. Rosemary's hospital, we stop at a florist to get some 'Get Well Soon' stuff. My brother gave me some stronger medication, as he always does whenever we go to the hospital, and it makes thinking better. I'm able to think about what happened, but it makes the images in my head seem like they're from a movie, rather than my own eyes. I'm able to think about the man who lays there in the ICU, day in day out. That man I was once in love with. No, I still love him. And he loved me too. Loved.
I'm brought back to reality by my brother.
"What colour do you want to give him today?"
I don't know why he asks. I always say the same. "Green. His favorite colour."
My brother sighed. "I think he has enough green. But oh well, it's your choice..."
I love my brother very very much. I'm so grateful that he puts up with me. It's kind of a funny thing, when we were much younger and he was a ***** up, I could've sworn that he would have to end up living with me when we were older. Ironically, I ended up having to live with him. Well, 'living with him' isn't what it is. It's more like 'babysitting' or 'mom didnt want her in a mental hospital.' Like I had said before, I'm too drugged to care.

We also stop by SubWay just before we get to the hospital. I get the usual, a footlong ham and Swiss, with three chocolate chip cookies and a large Dr. Pepper. It's not for me, of course. I never eat anymore. This food is for him, if he wakes up. Because if he wakes up while I'm there, I want the satisfaction of being there with his favorite food. I do this every time. It's been a very long time since my brother or his wife has complained, wasting food and such. I don't care whether or not they're mad I waste stuff. I want this, no. I need this, for my fiancé.

Hospitals used to always scare me. As a child, I never had a reason to go to the hospital, except for my mother or grandmother, and even then I never went. I just knew people died there sometimes. I used to be so afraid of death. Now I'm wishing for it daily.
We head up to the ICU. He has his own room to himself, but he wouldn't care whether or not he had other people in there. All the people here know me, since we come around so often. They always look at me with extremely sympathetic looks, and then whisper about me to the people who they're around.
"Poor woman... Was in a terrible car crash... See those scars?... Just about to get married... **** near lost her life..."
They think I don't hear them but I do. It's a complete blessing for this medication, and that it makes me not care anymore, but sometimes I wish I could care. I wish I could turn around to them and tell them to shut the **** up thank you very much. I just literally do not care anymore.
We get to his room. The nurse comes out with the same sympathetic look as the rest of them.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to remember the last time I heard his voice, seen his eyes, felt his smile, heard him singing, the last time he told me he loved me...
And then the whole scene of when my life basically ended flashed across my mind, like a movie.

We were in the car, driving, listening to the iPod that was hooked up, singing along with whoever the hell was on. It was the middle of April. Nice weather. It was the perfect day.
We were on the way to this favorite place of mine, a 'special date' he had called it. At the time I had no idea what he was going to do.
We went into the place, a rollerskating rink. We got our skates and went into the rink to skate around. The DJ called out a special song for a special someone. As we danced and skated to the song, which was 'our song', the song we used to sing to eachother all the time, when a spotlight shined on him and he stopped what he was doing.
"You know that I love you," he said. "And you know that I want to be with you for the rest of our lives." He got down on one knee. "Will you make me the happiest man alive, and marry me?"
I started to cry. I said yes, if course. It was the happiest moment of my life.

When we were finished with the date, we were driving back home. We were seated very close, holding onto eachother.
We stopped at a stop sign, and I wanted a kiss. So I turned my head toward his, and we kissed. When I opened my eyes, we were in the middle of the intersection, and a car was coming our way from the left. It's headlights were shining in my eyes, and it was too close, going too fast. Right before the hit, I looked at it, knew the danger, and screamed my fiancé's name. He looked into my eyes in alarm, and that was when it hit. The other car smashed right into us, t-boning us on the drivers side, while my husband-to-be was driving. That moment felt like an eternity. We were flown around, and we hit some **** I don't even remember.
The next thing I remember was the sirens. The ambulances came and took us away from the wreckage. He was hurt severely, put into a coma. Me, I had some bad injuries, but not as bad as his. We were rushed to the hospital, and he was flown by helicopter to a bigger hospital that dealt with more serious injuries. Within two days he was considered brain dead.

And now, here I am, walking on this earth, while the love of my life just lays there, brain dead. I don't know whose brilliant idea it was to make it so I have to walk around, wondering whether he will ever wake up. The doctors always say that it's been too long, or that there's no hope now, or that we need to pull the plug. But every time they tell me that, I flip out. I flip out so bad they have to basically tranquilize me and send me back to the mental hospital. It's horrible. I just wish I could die, and that they would finally pull the plug after my death, so that we can both be together, wherever we go when we are finished with this life...

And the picture that always haunts me? The one of his eyes, in alarm, when I screamed his name. That picture is what haunts me day and night. It's what my nightmares are composed of. Every. Single. One.

I think all of this over for about a minute before we walk in. No one urges me to go in faster, they all know what I'm doing. They all know that I'm reliving the moment that pretty much took him away.
I open my eyes, ready to see him at last. I take small, careful steps into the hospital room, watching the floor. I finally looked up to see him lying, like usual, in his bed.

...At least, that what I was expecting.

Instead, he was sitting up, eyes wide, waiting for my reaction to see him awake.

And that was when I fainted.
Not my best work, but I felt like writing a full narrative for once.
Last week I was watching the news, and I saw a story about a pregnant woman who is brain dead, and I thought of this idea to write a sort of love story. Meh, enjoy.
Lorenzo Soldera Apr 2014
tonight a girl stands on a bridge.
the midsummer breeze dances around her curves.
it begs her to come play.
her heart beats steady.
her gaze is motionless.
the changing air steals a whisper.
"we are moving into the house of Aquarius"
under the bridge a man sleeps.
in a few weeks he'll turn fifty-eight,
but he doesn't know that.
he hasn't had a birthday celebration in years.
he hasn't had anything to celebrate in years.
the bridge is home now.
above  him,
a girl is rediscovering herself.
a girl is rediscovering her fear of heights.
she looks 25 light years above her, at Vega.
in a way, she thinks, she is like this star.
she is about midway through her life expectancy,
but her light died a quarter century ago.
the man sleeps soundly.
a smile is spread across his face.
he is dreaming of his dinner,
a footlong sub.
extra olives, just the way he likes it.
it was his first meal in several days
but tonight, his stomach is full.
he has come to like the grease on his face.
it shows he has survived many challenges.
the hardships have only made him wiser.
the girl, she minored in astrology.
she was fifth in her graduating class.
debt lurked deep in her mind.
it polluted her every thought with
reminders that she was not in control.
now, she tries to justify her current position.
on the bridge.
looking out at Lyra, partially hidden by clouds
"nothing I do will matter."
she reconsiders.
she recalls an anecdote she overheard
on the subway, or somewhere:
"when you're dead, you're dead for a looooong time"
she smiles. kids say the darnedest things.
tonight she curses her 'lucky stars'.
nothing the girl does will matter.
tonight she will become a woman.
tonight she will give  herself to the wind.
the man will find her in the morning.
the man will chuckle to himself.
"they always make it down here,
one way or another"
date unknown. currently being considered for revision.

© 2014 by Lorenzo Soldera. All rights reserved.
wordvango Apr 2020
Asymptomatic of the cure I once died
From the pause of blood flow tween my eyes seeing stars I tried to breathe a deep breath and I just wheezed knowing , still conscious, I guess, that oxygen was vital to digestion as I'd partaken earlier that evening of a footlong meatball sub from Luigi's  Italian Deli down in Queens, while falling on the sidewalk hard a big fat Muslim guy all wrapped in cloth from head to toe minding his own business as New Yorkers do tripped on my foot falling dead upon my stomach hence causing this chain of events:
His left elbow crashed upon the concrete walk whereby a jolt of electric pain shot from his funny bone all way to his groin in practice quick silver his body draped head to toe in silken robes ****** left gravity not receding yet his chest fell directly on my torso prone squeezing my left aorta to push an inordinate amount of blood through me rushing oxygen to brain to tissue vital things, wherein his right side following the rest arm flailing wildly came to rest with a resounding smack onto my right cheekbone and lip and I responded kicking up a ****** my right knee in nerve reaction into his groin place mid-section which startled the horse drawing the big white carriage that had pulled to the curb right next to our christian and muslim collision and down the busy
thouroughfare with taxis honking and busses and multitudes of walkers  between the stone still buildinged avenue ran fast clipping the hotdog vendors cart sending weiners flying left and buns tight right mustard and ketchup spraying the vendor a multitude of innocents the white stallion the open carriage relish raining onions stinging the cops eye who startled pulled his taser triggered a nun walking nearby nearly saintly who jumped upon us two the causators the me and Allah, learned his name later over a beer at the pub, and squashed his face with her rear into mine.
It was caught on tape. The whole thing.
But, you know....
Conspiracies say

— The End —