Tales of Melancholy (The Flood: Part 1)
Where did all of these people come from? And who allowed them to breed? Damned if I know the answer to that. They must have come straight out of that door that says pandemonium. All crazy shit. All these crazy types are catastrophic fools. Ignore the fact that I've been avoiding you and that I've been lying all this time when I said "I just need to get away from the whole situation." That was total bullshit. You all gave me the willies. Keep me free from doing the crazy insane spontaneous things I so happen to willingly acknowledge too. So there. My once novice friends. Remember all these words I giveth to you. Don't coming chasing after me.
My intentions will be quite simple. Food and liquor is all I want. Keep them coming and I'll definetely stay on track. You can keep your formal dinners cause I'm not quite sure that dinner jacket will fit me. You go ahead without me. I'll be fine. Honestly. Food may be scarce at the moment and I could go for some fried chicked. I was having that strange fetish for falafel again. That name and the way it rolls off the tongue. The way it is said while skeeballing your way to a 450 high game. Now there's a sport! What? How long has that tequiza been sitting in the fridge? 4 months I think. My god was it 4 months since that awful party? Jesus H Christ! I am getting too old and the years are swaying by like crazy on such a rainy day. Shit I need to get things organized before the flood. Get myself prepared for this big end. The big sombrero is finally falling on us. The last piece of enchilada has been eaten off the plate of life. The last bit of salsa has been scooped up in the bowl of mortality.
Will we ever wake up? Who knows when or how? What about me and my mental state of capacity?
What is it that I still have to put up with? Is it the foreigners who park their cars next to me? The crazy old man who after seven strokes yells "You sick motherfucking pig!" to everyone including the minister? Is it the dumb girls who I can't figure out for the life of me the reason why they exist here on this Earth? Why my existence is wasted listening to them discuss Hugh Grant and window cleaners. These are the moody wives who have nothing better to then to remind me of how much of an accidental sexual continuity I have become if that even makes sense cause it doesn't. They are all religious fanatics who pity me and my foul tongue and my openmindedness and freedom of expression. Rejects, chumps, losers. All gathered daily under a giant tin roof nailed down by a thousand rusty aluminum bars secluded from everyday living.
Now I don't want to be around when that clock strikes midnight. That demon, that Doomsday clock. Mad chaos swirls all around. Raving lunatics run amok in the streets screaming and hollering for blood. They will look like hyenas on crack vomiting and urinating every square block of modern society. This is known as the beginning of the end. It will be the end of something. I was aware of that. Nobody else could see it but me. Strange things kept happening all around and it was inescapable. Observe closely for I was doomed. I had to come up with a plan. Do not look into one else's eyes. You don't want anyone to know. Secret plan. Be patient.
My intentions will be quite simple. Food and liquor is all I want. Keep them coming and I'll definetely stay on track. You can keep your formal dinners cause I'm not quite sure that dinner jacket will fit me. You go ahead without me. I'll be fine. Honestly. Food may be scarce at the moment and I could go for some fried chicked. I was having that strange fetish for falafel again. That name and the way it rolls off the tongue. The way it is said while skeeballing your way to a 450 high game. Now there's a sport! What? How long has that tequiza been sitting in the fridge? 4 months I think. My god was it 4 months since that awful party? Jesus H Christ! I am getting too old and the years are swaying by like crazy on such a rainy day. Shit I need to get things organized before the flood. Get myself prepared for this big end. The big sombrero is finally falling on us. The last piece of enchilada has been eaten off the plate of life. The last bit of salsa has been scooped up in the bowl of mortality.
Will we ever wake up? Who knows when or how? What about me and my mental state of capacity?
What is it that I still have to put up with? Is it the foreigners who park their cars next to me? The crazy old man who after seven strokes yells "You sick motherfucking pig!" to everyone including the minister? Is it the dumb girls who I can't figure out for the life of me the reason why they exist here on this Earth? Why my existence is wasted listening to them discuss Hugh Grant and window cleaners. These are the moody wives who have nothing better to then to remind me of how much of an accidental sexual continuity I have become if that even makes sense cause it doesn't. They are all religious fanatics who pity me and my foul tongue and my openmindedness and freedom of expression. Rejects, chumps, losers. All gathered daily under a giant tin roof nailed down by a thousand rusty aluminum bars secluded from everyday living.
Now I don't want to be around when that clock strikes midnight. That demon, that Doomsday clock. Mad chaos swirls all around. Raving lunatics run amok in the streets screaming and hollering for blood. They will look like hyenas on crack vomiting and urinating every square block of modern society. This is known as the beginning of the end. It will be the end of something. I was aware of that. Nobody else could see it but me. Strange things kept happening all around and it was inescapable. Observe closely for I was doomed. I had to come up with a plan. Do not look into one else's eyes. You don't want anyone to know. Secret plan. Be patient.