Read Me

READ ME



Let me start by telling you, I am not a writer. Moreover, I am not in the least bit worthy enough of going near a pen without stabbing someone's eye out like the fruitcake I am because let's be honest. Between you and me, I'm the one with a D in English. So, I guess I'll just get to the point without trying too hard to sound poetic because you'd just end up crapping yourself laughing and miss the whole point of what I'm trying to get to here.



So I'll start with this: if you're here for a story, put this down and just wait for it to happen. I'm not telling you a story, I'm telling you how it is and how it's gonna be until about the next week or so.



If you're still reading this, bear with me, it's gonna end soon. It's going to end pretty much with a big 'bang'. A huge bang, with all the sparks and colors of the Fourth of July and hopefully just as memorable.



Are you still there? Good. Firstly, I'm not one of those narcissistic guys who thinks he's better than everyone and that he has a God given right to do this. That's not why I'm doing it. I'm pretty much the opposite actually. From where I look I see good friends and good people- wealthy ones racking up the grades, the Ivies, the teams, hell even godamned concerts, road trips and reef without ill effect at all. They can afford this too- shit goes down they have the money to pull them out. But, why does it have to go down in the first place? I did mention grades right?



There is a correlation between a household's income and the success of its children. Correlation doesn't mean causation; not always but when it comes to aristocratic families maintaining aristocratic statuses since God knows when and the 'self made men' remaining virtually nonexistent except as a result of pure luck like a sudden demand for orange jam during the Depression; you start to wonder if it really does have something to do with the amount of quarters you're born with. Maybe it is? I think so anyways. So while the rest of you remain ignorant of this there are those of us who realize it sooner or later and either choose to suck it up and kiss ass to try to change it or shoot our heads off because we know for a fact that we can't.

So, bottom line is: no matter what I do, I'm headed nowhere. Even if I do manage to improve my status through hard work and God's will like a good Protestant, things are going to come full circle because chances are it would never be at the same level as those guys above us rolling down shite at the rest of us because they know they'll always be above us. In this lifetime at the least, they will always be our masters. So I became preoccupied with a simple notion: what if we could start over? You know without anyone above us since birth and this notion of 'some people are born gifted' is irrelevant because no one would be. Not in the long run anyways.



I'm talking about starting over; rebooting the entire world and getting rid of all the vicious crap we have to face every day. It's gonna be like Armageddon- like the one that didn't happen in 2012 and no one in New York is gonna end up unscathed. The only people who are, probably will have come from Chechnya or Afghanistan or any other hellhole where this kind of shite is normal- but even then all they will have are their own wits like the rest of us.



So you're probably wondering what in the hell I'm talking about right? Alright, you read this far and suffered witless banter long enough so I'll throw you a bone- it goes boom, BIG BOOM. And not only that, it throws Geiger counters to a hell storm of beeps while the guy holding it bleeds from every orifice. So yeah, I have a bomb: a Dirty bomb.



You're probably wondering when I'll set it off right? Soon, by the next week or so. Or maybe the next month? Really, I myself don't know and to be honest I'm not too keen on the idea myself.



So you're thinking bullshit right about now right? Maybe. However, consider this. More than half the world hates America and each one has a dictator that gets wet dreams thinking about putting the 'infidels' to dust. So yes, each one has its own plans and I found a working one from a crummy small nation called China. They've been working on it since the Berlin Wall went down and they just needed a way of sneaking it in without alerting the Giant and all the others watching.



A white Anglo Saxon Protestant Libertarian: 100% American was the perfect candidate. No one at the airports looks twice at the Southerner with the suspicious package the size of a refrigerator on his back so long as he has a cowboy hat and baby blue eyes.

Truth is they wanted me to put it in somewhere around the Empire State building or any other 'Capitalist institution' like the Statue of Liberty. But no. Armageddon is not going down the Chinese way. It's not going down any foreign way you understand? I'm American so even if just symbolically, it's going at a Wendy's run by a Mr. Patel in Fordham.



At least it was until I realized how stupid that was going to be- the blast radius wouldn't cover enough important infrastructure so it was going to that pond in Central Park; the one with the bridge, trees and the cute little boats.



I was going to plant it and set it off on the eve Christmas of 2013. The plan was to highlight and make clear that this perfect system where the rich get big toys and the poor struggle off with their families to a soup kitchen wouldn't be tolerated in the New World. But I was distracted. The river was frozen over and you wouldn't believe this stupid brunette girl dancing on top of it.

She looked about eighteen- looked older than I do anyways, and had that weird smile that makes you giddy under the moonlight.



She also had cottony green eyes. She was blind.



Now aside from Alabama, I'm from the Bronx and I know the effects of MMDA (Ecstasy) when I see it and it was just hilarious if not somewhat sad. Who do you think she lost? Her boyfriend? Her husband? I don't claim to understand women but I know that they don't do this unless they lost someone. Not a decent looking woman anyways who obviously came from a wealthy family.

Then she slipped and landed on her ass. Of course being the southern gentleman that I am, I rushed over to her bomb and all through the ice to help her up.



Then the godamned ice cracked and I fell in.



Sally (let's call her that) snapped her head my way and rushed to pull me up. That was stupid; a blind woman had more sense of direction than I did. I was soaking wet, IMMENSELY embarrassed and probably looked especially stupid with my hat dripping freezing water. Then she felt around, reached the refrigerator-sized package on my back, and laughed. Without even bothering to ask what the hell it was, she asked me to dance. Can you believe that? DANCE? A blind woman, all alone with a complete stranger and she asks him to dance. If there's an innocent woman Sally was that. The moon was full, I was dripping wet and needed a way to stay warm so I set down the bag and thought: "world's ending right? So why the hell not?"



One thing led to another, and because we were the only ones there, we ended up doing it right on top of the ice. Pretty soon the MMDA wore off and she asked me to take her home.



She lived at the Lower East Side with a drunk for a mother and eighteen cats. It's not a way that a proper lady should live so I visited her often, entertained her mother and played with her cats and did it with her in the kitchen while her mom's passed out in the living room sofa in full view of the eight little runts and possibly the neighbors (though I was careful to close the windows).

This went on until about last week when I found her on the floor frothing in the mouth next to her mother still passed out on the sofa. The eighteen runts were licking her and I didn't like the way some of them were chewing her nose.



Dead. Possibly from the MMDA pills though I don't know for sure.



Of course it wouldn't last. Nothing good ever does. So I hiked it and called the cops to the apartment. Sally deserves a burial at the least.



Thinking back to that, I realized that she was the only one stopping me from setting off the Chinese Bomb but with nothing to occupy my mind and stop me from realizing how much of a hell this world is, I don't have any more distractions.



Well maybe I have one. Sally was eighteen or so when she died. She never told me exactly, and you don't ask a lady her age especially if you're looking at a person you're vying to spend your life with.



Eighteen years. One for each cat.



No one can replace her, you understand? No one.



Eighteen cats chewing her face.



Eighteen cats and a drunk mother for a family.



So in her honor, and to the honor of her missing father who I believe is the cause of all this, I intend to make 'eighteen' the last thing you remember.



I'm going to hunt down and clock off eighteen men. Nobody specific. Just eighteen men matching the description of that son of a bitch: a deadbeat, possibly rich (rich enough to keep a bastard family in style anyways) and possibly handsome idiot who used his power and position above Sally's mother to get one night with her.



You will remember her.



After that, I don't think I have any specific reason to live.



So about that bomb. That Chinese made Dirty Bomb.



Does Christmas sound good to you?