the hellish binosaur
i would like to blame my 7th grade ela teacher for issues regarding my writing
the hellish binosaur
i would like to blame my 7th grade ela teacher for issues regarding my writing
i would like to blame my 7th grade ela teacher for issues regarding my writing
i would like to blame my 7th grade ela teacher for issues regarding my writing
Crying And crying And whining And begging And sobbing And screaming And complaining And bargaining But Teddy was ran over by a driving mime So now the monsters will eat my toes And pick of my eyeballs And play with my brain And make necklaces out my intestines But Teddy won’t be there with me
I watch somberly from the window, as the soldiers investigate the damage sustained from the crash. This is supposed to be a safe visit of state, but things never seem to go to plan here.
Crashes and bangs come from inside the shuttle walls, where grease monkeys do their best to repair the mechanics while welders patch up the outside. The soldiers run around, waving around their weapons, to see if they can find whatever shit us down. When they consider the amount of issues combined with the zero casualties, it will appear to be an amateur’s handiwork.
If only they knew-
“If only they knew what, bro? This doesn’t look like math,” Mr. Larson drawled in his I’m-so-cool-and-all-my-students-love-me voice, as he pulled my notebook out from under my desk. He was a strange little man. With a face full of white stubble, he was very fond of over sharing about his girlfriend in Texas and acting all modern.
“Mr. Larson, at least I’m not committing arson like last week. I’m simply writing a story. It’s way better than smoking weed in the courtyard, or hooking up in the gender neutral bathroom, or, my favorite yet, jumping out the window to play crossy road in the parking lot,” I stated, confidently.
“…..do I even want to know when you do all this stuff?”
“I need to confess something… I did it. Now, can you pass the wine?”
“You what?” I stammered, hoping I heard wrong. Shelby reached past me and grabbed the wine before take a huge swig straight from the bottle. She licked the red liquid of her upper lip before continuing.
“I did it. I didn’t mean to, I swear. I’m so, so sorry. Please forgive me,” she whispered, a haunted look in her eye before kneeling on the ground before me, begging.
“I promise, Sam, I would never purposely hurt you. I would never, could never, do that,” Shelby cried from her perch on the floor. I still sat, shocked from the sudden confession. And it hurt, it hurt so much. To know that she would do this to me was unbearable.
“I can’t believe you,” I yelled. “I thought we were friends, and then you backstab me like this? It’s over. I never want to see you again. Go burn in hell!!!”
“It was just one cookie! One measly cookie!”
“So what, Shelby? It was MY cookie, not yours. MINE. I can’t be around someone like you,” I said before turning on my heel and walking out.
I cannot believe that Shelby would do that to me. I think I’m right to end this friendship now, rather than in the future because who knows what she could steal by then. Maybe my phone, or my books, or, worse yet, my immersion blender.
Maybe I should attack her with my immersion blender before it’s too late.
It wasn’t supposed to happen this way, my mom was supposed to come back, not this hag. I said the necromancy incantation exactly the way I was told to. I pronounced every word just the way the person smoking weed and doing shots behind my favorite 7/11(they have the best gas station sushi). The woman, who wasn’t my mother, wore a ragged white wedding gown, and as she sat on a bench blood red roses bloomed around her. She looked to be in so much pain and she screamed at me while flailing her limbs, it was quite disheartening and sad to watch. No matter how sad or disheartening, it really didn’t seem like a me problem, so I quickly left, fuming about not being able to bring my mother back to to life. As I walked through the dark graveyard, I though of all the choice words for that high toalla de papel empapada behind my favorite sushi joint. And I think I’ll get some sushi while I’m at it.
I need to keep fighting This was supposed to be exciting
Just keep paddling And paddling And paddling
I can’t let them catch me I never thought I’d have to flee
Just keep paddling And paddling And paddling
I can’t lose this game My kids can’t think I’m lame
Just keep paddling And paddling And paddling
Manhunt will be my end Because I know what’s around this bend
Just keep paddling And paddling And paddling
Until I plummet down the waterfall I should’ve answered that IRS call
Just keep paddling And paddling And falling
“….. may she rest in peace,” yelled the undertaker as he hurled my sister’s corpse into the grave.
My throat closed as ugly sobs threatened to burst through my pursed lips. I can do this. Just a few minutes and I can cry my heart out, alone for the first time in days.
My grandparents walked away, high and mighty as always with their matching Lululemon and Air Force 1s. They glared at me, acting as though I was the reason she fell off a chandelier and had to go to the hospital, where she was accidentally given a C-Section due to a mixup of patients.
The second they left my line of sight, I fell to my knees. Sobs racked my body as I let my emotions free. Millions of needles poked at my body and salty tears dried out my throat. Everything feels wrong and broken without her. I feel wrong and broken without her.
I sobbed next to the grave until my tears ran dry. I wiped my face with my sleeve and stood up, brushing the grave dirt off my pants. I took a deep breath preparing to face the rest of my life alone, and just as I was about to walk off, I got hit in the face with a handful of mud.
“What the fuck,” I croaked, disoriented from my crying. Confusion dripped through my body seeing the figure in front of me, then I started crying again. But this time, they were good tears. Amazing tears.
The dark coils of hair, the warm chocolate eyes, the faded jeans and red tank top. My sister. My sweet, amazing sister. I ran to her and tackle hugged her.
“What are you doing, girl? Tackling an old man! The nerve you younguns’ have these days,” my sister grumbled. Except it wasn’t her. It was the old gravedigger, who had some strange fashion choices.
He pushed me away, and I ran. As far as my legs would take me. That was the last time I ever saw my sister’s face. My grandparents burned all the pictures of her afterward. I will never get to see that sweet angel’s face again until I join her.
Which may be quite soon. Or it may be many years from now. Death does not discriminate. It will come for me eventually.
Sitting in the road Bright and happy A safe space Always there Never falters Until the rain comes Pouring down Winds howling Until the cone tips over Rolling down the hill Rolling And rolling And rolling Mud covering it With each tumble The good times Seem farther away And farther away And farther away Until all the brightness has gone Eventually it will be replaced But not for a time The DPW is just too busy for that
Should’ve known I misunderstood Should’ve been smarter Should’ve been better
Shouldn’t have acted so quickly Shouldn’t have assumed what he meant Shouldn’t have grabbed that hammer
Should be over soon Should be behind bars for life Should be out of my parent’s basement at least
Johnny didn’t ask me to kill him with an axe Johnny did ask me to fill up his glass Johnny did scream when he died
I think I screwed up I think I’m going to jail I think I need a lawyer and 10k for bail
“….. and that’s why my wife divorced me,” sobbed the bearded man next to me. My nails dug into my palms as I tried not to react to his antics. First he ranted about the World Cup match, then it was about his dad throwing his sister out of the house when she came out, plus so many more strange topics. His one sided debate about deodorant was particularly sad. It had been going on like this for 4 hours and 17 minutes, not that I was counting or anything. This man has absolutely no self respect, I thought coldly, desperately trying not to close my fingers around his throat. I would love to just squeeze and squeeze until the life left his bugged out eyes. “I want my wife back. I loved being married. I had someone to cook and clean for me. It was amazing,” he sobbed, using my top to wipe his eyes and nose. “Wait!!! I know what to do,” he exclaimed, realization dawning upon his face as his tears slowed to a standstill. He stood up and then knelt upon one knee. “Ummmm….. shit. I don’t know your name. Oh, and I’m Jacques, by the way,” he said. I really hoped to never have to speak back to him, but here we go I guess. “I’m Amberly,” I snarled back at him. Good God. I am so beyond done with this man. “Perfect. Amberly, I know we just met and this is crazy, but here’s a ring. Marry me, maybe?” The people around us started cheering and clapping. They actually expected me to say yes to this bastard. “Fuck no,” I yelled before walking to the bathroom where I hid for the next 2 hours and 18 minutes.
Running through the pitch black forest with a river of tears flowing from her eyes, Aoife’s legs were on fire from the constant movement. Had it been minutes or hours? She wanted- no, she needed, to stop. Her lungs were already filling with a thick gelatinous goo, much longer without medical care would kill her; sprinting through the inky darkness would only hasten the seemingly inevitable end. Choking on phlegm, Aoife fell to her knees. Struggling to regain her feet, she stood too quickly. Falling backwards, she sprawled against the carpet of pine needles that piled atop the moist ground. She twitched uncontrollably as regurgitated material trailed down from the corners of her mouth. “I should never have trusted that bastard, no matter how sweet or cute. I should never have fallen in love. I should never have drunk that soda after I watched the drugs poured in by a hand I was enamores with. I should’ve been smarter,” Aoife’s muffled whisper went out across the dark. She lay on death’s doorstep, convulsing as she waited to be claimed by whatever god came first, whether it be Allah or God or Indra or Hades or any other deity. It didn’t matter to her, as long as she didn’t have to roam this earth for all of eternity. “Shoulda, coulda, woulda,” a cruel voice whispered through the night. A flashlight blinded Aoife, the instant her she could see again she saw a figure above her. A figure holding a gun. A small pistol that was pointed directly at her forehead. “Please, please don’t,” Aoife gasped, trying to make each breath last. Blackness grasped at her vision, as she heard the click of the safety unlatched. “Oh sweet, naive Aoife. You should know by now that monsters take joy from your pain. I’ll make your death quick, nearly painless.” “I’m begging you,” she screamed. “Please, don’t do this. You love me!!! Didn’t you love me?” “I’ve only ever loved one person. And that person is dead thank to you. So to answer your question: no, Aoife, I never loved you,” you laughed coldly before pulling the trigger. It wasn’t your first kill, but none had felt so good.