We're damned after all...
I don't like fire. To be honest, actually, that's a tad the understatement. A cigarette lit too close to me has sent me into catatonic fits. They say neurotic fear might've caused my stroke. I'm slim to believing that. I had a stroke because bits of my brains cooked away several years ago, yes, in the literal sense. Still deciding how I feel about all that.
This is me lying again. I've gotten accustomed to that. I already know where I'm going, after all. No reason to be good now, huh?
I'm so stupid. I got myself here. I made some sort of stupid pact that I didn't understand, with people I knew were going to screw me one way or the other, and here I am, Eugene the Spectacular Freak in his little box; screwed.
They're going to trade me. I was content to be Job and now I'm Joseph, being sold away by my own kin. Technically, they've already sold me. My body moves but I'm not there moving it. Somehow all the lines have been cut. 'Severe burns over 30% of the body', as the doctors love repeating? Didn't think I'd miss it being mine so much. In preparation for him, obviously, also doubling as my punishment for trying to run out on my word last October, and somehow in part a joke of the universe.
The funniest part of all of this? I have absolutely nothing to do with this, beyond a bloodline. They need Therese... Corrine... whoever. They need that thing she carries around with her, but getting to her and then getting at It before It smites the shit out of all of them is a tricky deal. And like the sad slobs my siblings are, they spread the love and pick me to be the fleshbag for dad back on this side. I wonder if they told him he's going to look like MeltFace when he gets here? Ah, well.
Doesn't matter much. Once they let that thing out, we're a screwed lot, anyway.
This is me lying again. I've gotten accustomed to that. I already know where I'm going, after all. No reason to be good now, huh?
I'm so stupid. I got myself here. I made some sort of stupid pact that I didn't understand, with people I knew were going to screw me one way or the other, and here I am, Eugene the Spectacular Freak in his little box; screwed.
They're going to trade me. I was content to be Job and now I'm Joseph, being sold away by my own kin. Technically, they've already sold me. My body moves but I'm not there moving it. Somehow all the lines have been cut. 'Severe burns over 30% of the body', as the doctors love repeating? Didn't think I'd miss it being mine so much. In preparation for him, obviously, also doubling as my punishment for trying to run out on my word last October, and somehow in part a joke of the universe.
The funniest part of all of this? I have absolutely nothing to do with this, beyond a bloodline. They need Therese... Corrine... whoever. They need that thing she carries around with her, but getting to her and then getting at It before It smites the shit out of all of them is a tricky deal. And like the sad slobs my siblings are, they spread the love and pick me to be the fleshbag for dad back on this side. I wonder if they told him he's going to look like MeltFace when he gets here? Ah, well.
Doesn't matter much. Once they let that thing out, we're a screwed lot, anyway.