Archive | August, 2018

Beat the Dog

11 Aug

vick hat

I was on the beach. I was “scouting locations” for my book. I needed a house. It belongs to a specific person, I can’t say who. And I read that she lived in this beach town. So I went there and I walked down and down and down the beach past where young teens shivered in the waist high water with their ass cracks devouring their bikini bottoms. To the rich people part of the beach where old men sitting in folding camping chairs glare at you because in their mind this beach is private. And I glared back because I’d be happy to humiliate them in front of their wives and daughters. Stun them with one right cross then drag them out in the surf and hold their head down for about 45 seconds. Let them up for one desperate breath. Then back down again. Repeat repeat repeat. The wife can’t leave to run back in the vacation rental and get the phone to call the cops but she’s not quite prepared for violence either, genetically. She has to puzzle out a right-size piece of driftwood to swing at me with. I got doxed so I won’t tell you what happens to her in this story. She better hope a fuckin dolphin saves her. Continue reading →

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Tomorrow

1 Aug

I’ll work. I’ll use Microsoft Office to do what a rich guy tells me to do. Leave late. I’ll go to the Vons and see what’s on sale. Maybe a pork chop. Maybe some Brussels sprouts. I need milk. I’ll go home instead of the gym because I’m out of dress shirts. Need to do laundry. On the drive talk to my AA sponsee. Tell him what my AA sponsor said to say which is about the definition of insanity. Get home cook the pork chop put the clothes in the wash do deadlifts with the barbell I bought. Take the shirts out of the washer and hang them to drip dry. Put the underwear and socks and towels in the dryer. Go to an AA meeting. Get my clothes out of the dryer. I will not fold them. She will not text me. I will not open the door and it’s her.