Scared Like Me
I'm at work. The church. The Rectoreatum. I was training my replacement. She's younger than me. Probably 16. She's cuter than me, but I judge girls better about that than guys. I'm quiting. I have to. It's become a pain to work here, then rush over to the craft store for a measly three hours. I don't remember her name. I am a sexual being: her body was where my eyes were. Does that make me perverted? I know I'm older. I didn't actually do anything. I just stared. I'm not going to do anything. The women I seek are older than me by the same amount of years. What is in my head that I could remember her little body with its purine glow and formal erectness, but her name is a mystery. I was introduced, I was told her name. But it's not with me. Maybe I'm a disgrace to my kind. Maybe I need to be in prison. Maybe...maybe I didn't want her at all. I surmise this: She is my replacement, and even tho I dislike this job, I don't want her to be in my position. I want to ravage her and make her impure for the simple purpose of making her inelligible. I'm a nasty human being when you get down to the bare bones of me.
Haha, I'm actually at work. Some of this happened, some of it didn't. We're all messed up. To what degree, there's the rub.
Haha, I'm actually at work. Some of this happened, some of it didn't. We're all messed up. To what degree, there's the rub.