A Chapter in Understanding the Perpetual Practice
folder
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,316
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
1,316
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Intro
** This story contains rape and necrophilia. This story may and will contain a minor (as soon as I get around to writing the first chapter), so please... BEWARE... I guess.
-Introduction-
Someone once summed up the world in one phrase: ignorance is bliss. The few smiles shown in a crowd full of people only result in lack of intelligence and understanding. Everyone subsides in their boxed up little cubbie holes, always convincing themselves that their lives are happy and worthwhile. No level of open-mindedness could allow them to imagine a life without some piece of perfection or righteousness in everything they do. Morals have so many interpretations. Thus, churches are cults and people live by their favorite television programs. Not to mention why my life is no longer mine, proven unfit by the standards of my society\'s \"justified\" interpretations of its own.
I take what I want, how I want, when I want it. No master-minded strategy behind my behavior, just a simple, natural human impulse I believe. Everyone just blames their humble conscience for not stepping up to the plate and acting on it. Since I have a few decades of time to kill (more or less), I figured I could share a chapter of this idea and it\'s results.
Haha, in present-day, my actions have generously handed me a cell with a mate that most likely plans to take my dignity into his own possession very soon, leaving his signature of cigarette burns into the flesh of my arm for all to see. Of course, like some of these men, I don\'t believe I deserve to be here. I\'m simply a man that gained the knowledge and confidence to live my idea of a \"happy life.\" As corny as that may seem, I\'m sorry to disappoint those fascinated with the romantic version of the sexually abused, broken home product with an I.Q. of 153 and a soft side for blind women and/or the elderly. I am only what I am -- a 34-year-old control freak who\'s had his share of problems, a permanent record burning in a deep pit of Hell, and the audacity to include you in the cattle herd of ass hats. Happy? No? Then stop reading.
I\'ve gone through quite a few people and many an act frowned upon and \"unthought of\" by the saintly world of today. Some people pretending to give a fuck (because they get paid to) ask me after all I\'ve done, if I would go back and change it. If I felt guilty. If I felt a comforting relation in someone\'s moment of fear, like some sort of therapeutic bubble bath after your cubicle-bound day with your boss trying to feel up your ass crack, simply because his wife weighs over 450 pounds and he hasn\'t seen another\'s genitalia in front of him since she gained that monstrous \"apron\" of soft sagging flesh. Maybe a bit of an overdone and unshared scenario, but trust me, I\'ve been there. I guess I would call it therapy of a sort, putting that term loosely. But tell me, who wouldn\'t want something so beautiful, cherished, and precious to come about your possession so easily, after a nice release of frustration? There\'s always someone to love and someone to hate, so why not all in one?
In reality, while they flash their lovely lying smiles and suffocate a room with the envious feeling of their presence, they\'re loved or hated by all for the time being. Then what? When they \"live the great existence\", spit out a million offspring and never work a day in their life, after that? They\'re reduced to the same state as the on-looker, as the envious, as the loving, as the hating, and as the people who never saw more than the remains of her rose-scented feces. Nothing but brittle-white leftovers, with their orifices empty and over sized, an everlasting smile that makes you sick to think it was ever the goddess that made you cry yourself to sleep and play tic-tac-toe all over your wrists. If not repulsed by the thought, then more than likely, it becomes someone just simply forgotten, the blank page in the back of a book, a day spent in all black and remembered for a couple of years. But ultimately forgotten. Sometimes questioned if that creature ever did exist in all their radiance. Reduced to earthen ZILCH. How sad.
What a better way for me to make proper usage of all that glamour, maybe help you reflect on a few more memorable years of the loved, innocent person that died so bravely and tragically by the hands of a sick, perverted loony-tune (God condemn his soul.) They go down in their blaze of rock star glory while I give you someone to blame for all your problems and fears and night sweats. And unlike you, I have a much better appreciation for the still version of your Princess-Loved-By-All. As you probably know by now.
* * * * *
-Introduction-
Someone once summed up the world in one phrase: ignorance is bliss. The few smiles shown in a crowd full of people only result in lack of intelligence and understanding. Everyone subsides in their boxed up little cubbie holes, always convincing themselves that their lives are happy and worthwhile. No level of open-mindedness could allow them to imagine a life without some piece of perfection or righteousness in everything they do. Morals have so many interpretations. Thus, churches are cults and people live by their favorite television programs. Not to mention why my life is no longer mine, proven unfit by the standards of my society\'s \"justified\" interpretations of its own.
I take what I want, how I want, when I want it. No master-minded strategy behind my behavior, just a simple, natural human impulse I believe. Everyone just blames their humble conscience for not stepping up to the plate and acting on it. Since I have a few decades of time to kill (more or less), I figured I could share a chapter of this idea and it\'s results.
Haha, in present-day, my actions have generously handed me a cell with a mate that most likely plans to take my dignity into his own possession very soon, leaving his signature of cigarette burns into the flesh of my arm for all to see. Of course, like some of these men, I don\'t believe I deserve to be here. I\'m simply a man that gained the knowledge and confidence to live my idea of a \"happy life.\" As corny as that may seem, I\'m sorry to disappoint those fascinated with the romantic version of the sexually abused, broken home product with an I.Q. of 153 and a soft side for blind women and/or the elderly. I am only what I am -- a 34-year-old control freak who\'s had his share of problems, a permanent record burning in a deep pit of Hell, and the audacity to include you in the cattle herd of ass hats. Happy? No? Then stop reading.
I\'ve gone through quite a few people and many an act frowned upon and \"unthought of\" by the saintly world of today. Some people pretending to give a fuck (because they get paid to) ask me after all I\'ve done, if I would go back and change it. If I felt guilty. If I felt a comforting relation in someone\'s moment of fear, like some sort of therapeutic bubble bath after your cubicle-bound day with your boss trying to feel up your ass crack, simply because his wife weighs over 450 pounds and he hasn\'t seen another\'s genitalia in front of him since she gained that monstrous \"apron\" of soft sagging flesh. Maybe a bit of an overdone and unshared scenario, but trust me, I\'ve been there. I guess I would call it therapy of a sort, putting that term loosely. But tell me, who wouldn\'t want something so beautiful, cherished, and precious to come about your possession so easily, after a nice release of frustration? There\'s always someone to love and someone to hate, so why not all in one?
In reality, while they flash their lovely lying smiles and suffocate a room with the envious feeling of their presence, they\'re loved or hated by all for the time being. Then what? When they \"live the great existence\", spit out a million offspring and never work a day in their life, after that? They\'re reduced to the same state as the on-looker, as the envious, as the loving, as the hating, and as the people who never saw more than the remains of her rose-scented feces. Nothing but brittle-white leftovers, with their orifices empty and over sized, an everlasting smile that makes you sick to think it was ever the goddess that made you cry yourself to sleep and play tic-tac-toe all over your wrists. If not repulsed by the thought, then more than likely, it becomes someone just simply forgotten, the blank page in the back of a book, a day spent in all black and remembered for a couple of years. But ultimately forgotten. Sometimes questioned if that creature ever did exist in all their radiance. Reduced to earthen ZILCH. How sad.
What a better way for me to make proper usage of all that glamour, maybe help you reflect on a few more memorable years of the loved, innocent person that died so bravely and tragically by the hands of a sick, perverted loony-tune (God condemn his soul.) They go down in their blaze of rock star glory while I give you someone to blame for all your problems and fears and night sweats. And unlike you, I have a much better appreciation for the still version of your Princess-Loved-By-All. As you probably know by now.
* * * * *