And all the children are insane...
In about fourteen years, if all goes accordingly, this place is gonna have a major fucking problem. We're gonna be knee-deep in teenagers, kids who'll know more and be more comfortable here than we ever were, but instead of a band of fucked up, unwanted little bastards, these kids'll actually have families. 'Cause all the kids being popped out left and right here, I haven't seen a single one hasn't been wanted. Even the unwanted teenage pregnancy 'round here's sugar coated, and I guess they're sweeping all the hasty abortions under the rug. When Juno has her kid, it'll go to some happy, picket-fence queer couple who likely isn't us, and they'll clearly take better care of the little fucker than we ever could...
Last time I sat here for the day, I had soft-core, unsatisfying porno and a joint. Now I've got twin girls stretched out on a blanket in the grass, just to the left of the swingset with two dogs playing in the dirt nearby. I've got two almost-toddling infants while Mom's busy and Dad's probably playing with his own life-sized, fully-functional G.I. Joe... or whatever. I sit cross-legged on one corner of checkered blue and red cotton, humming The Doors under my breath and watching Mack crawl after a fucking butterfly and Flo chew on the ear of my new little brown bear. Books at my hip, fairytale picture books and one post-apocalyptic horror novel, chewing on a blade of grass and snorting out a laugh when Mack wobbles over and tries to climb in my lap.
I really need a fucking smoke, and no, this isn't the type of sociable I would've imagined back home, but... whatever. Nothing goes as planned anyhow.
[Neil with Mack and Flo Pinocchio in the playground. He's quietly mumbling The Doors' Break on Through and The End, but he insists he isn't singing to the babies. Come entertain them, or poke fun. ST/LT welcome, and as always, open to all.]
Last time I sat here for the day, I had soft-core, unsatisfying porno and a joint. Now I've got twin girls stretched out on a blanket in the grass, just to the left of the swingset with two dogs playing in the dirt nearby. I've got two almost-toddling infants while Mom's busy and Dad's probably playing with his own life-sized, fully-functional G.I. Joe... or whatever. I sit cross-legged on one corner of checkered blue and red cotton, humming The Doors under my breath and watching Mack crawl after a fucking butterfly and Flo chew on the ear of my new little brown bear. Books at my hip, fairytale picture books and one post-apocalyptic horror novel, chewing on a blade of grass and snorting out a laugh when Mack wobbles over and tries to climb in my lap.
I really need a fucking smoke, and no, this isn't the type of sociable I would've imagined back home, but... whatever. Nothing goes as planned anyhow.
[Neil with Mack and Flo Pinocchio in the playground. He's quietly mumbling The Doors' Break on Through and The End, but he insists he isn't singing to the babies. Come entertain them, or poke fun. ST/LT welcome, and as always, open to all.]