Archive for June, 2010

The Midnight Crawler: Just Plain Creepy

By Homo sapien …. .. ………

– Not suitable for the faint of heart –

He could hear it burn. Inhale…exhale. He could hear it as it cracked revealing a gray seam through which a reddish blaze filtered.  Inhale…exhale. The heat coming from it is burning the top of his mouth. After a few minutes it no longer burned.

Fling! A faint thud followed. He can hear a needle fall if he wanted but he never was able to hear the voice of reason that constantly and most devotedly beseeched him to live.

After stepping on the butt of what was once a much sought after cigarette the young man gazed through the iron bars, sighed and headed back to the office.

Cigarettes burn a hole through your pockets! He doesn’t smoke out of fear for his health but out of fear of burning his money. They, health experts and the general surgeon, say cigarettes can cause cancer! So they say yet no one listens!

Years ago and before someone blew the whistle on the cigarette industry a cowboy leaning over a horse offering another cowboy a cigarette was the epitome of cool.

I wanted to be that cowboy when I grew up. What happened? I realized Jordan is filled with sheep.

“Howdee mam! I am Mike Midnight! A Sheepboy from Amman.” Sadly, saying your a Sheepboy is not like saying your a Cowboy! Imagine Kid Rock singing, “Sheepboy Baby!”

No need to read between the lines for this one for I am going to say it bluntly here: Life is filled with backstabbing cowards and cowardly sheep that simply make the lives of decent folk harder!

Cowards like the bastard piece of shit no good for nothing cunt idiot fcuk worthless scum sewage water crap bird shit piss sicko man-bitch whore who published a false story about a man, who just wanted to do his job, on a website that supposedly promotes freedom of speech and professional journalism. I hope satan’s lowliest minion takes him up as his toilet brush in the afterlife.

It’s been a while since I crawled around these parts. Been busy running after rent money! “Them suckers are fast,” a little man wearing a sheepboy hat whispered in my ear. He was referring to the paychecks that one has to rope at the end of each month.

Ever seen an anthropomorphic cockroach sipping Amstel beer on a hot day? Now that’s a sight to see. Don’t mix your booze and drive cause you might end up killing someone. Walk but don’t run. Crawl but don’t walk. Keep on walking. What a brilliant ad! As if an intoxicating drink that is supposed to knock you senseless will allow you to walk.

I am not worried about my receding hairline. I am not worried about my deteriorating body. I am worried about my soul.

Burn baby burn! One way ticket to the blues!

I am not the voice of truth, I am not the voice of reason, I am just a voice echoing across a concrete wilderness! How concrete is that wilderness? Pretty concrete!

I am sickened. This city is more and more sickening me. I love it and I hate it more. The more I live in it the more I love it yet I also hate it the same way an angry child would spend the afternoon hating an angry parent, who just broke his or her favorite toy. It will pass!

I am sick and tired of perfectionists seeking imperfections. I just want to type these words and slice open my paragraphs so that words pour out unto the white screen. Finally some piece of mind. I call it imaginary literary suicide. I am filled with imperfections. They say I am human. I believe them. I try to listen to the wall. Nothing! I try to go through the wall. Nothing! I try to look up! I dare not! The silence is killing me. I know! I know! I know!

The wanabees are in control and the has-beens are more and more having it their way.  Crosses and nails are prepared to those who dare oppose them. What does that leave me with?  Less care. What does that turn me into ? Careless. What will that do to me? I care less. I am sifting through everything. I am thinking of breaking the hourglass to collect the running sand into a leather satchel made out of durable human skin.

Then again maybe not! Who knows when the wind will blow and scatter the pebbles.

In case you’re wondering! I still haven’t found out why a cockroach would venture into your bathroom. Voila. No verdict—for the time being. They seem to be in it just for dabbling in shit.

“Vague were my visual recollections of the vicissitude of thine visage after our first verbal encounter. I realized how vibrant and volatile your character was. However, virulent are my thoughts of that day you referred to me as V as thine vivacious smile overshadowed thine venerable manner. True, at first I was lost by thine velvety long locks that vie with that of fair Venus but no sooner I heard the velocity of thine voice I was left with ease and pleased to have met with thee valiant Evey,” V declares to a distraught Evey Hammond, while they are dancing at the eve of his revolution, at his secret hideout.

I am no Alan Moore. False humility prevents me from declaring that I wrote the above paragraph in one sitting but it does not prevent me from including that previous line, “I wrote the above paragraph in one sitting” here. Confusing right! Ask me to recite it by heart I will tell you to F off. I have a very bad memory. If I had a good memory I would have become a renowned stage actor six years ago.

What was that! A short interlude to allow you to shut your computer screen and go microwave some popcorn, while the bullshit  I write continues a few paragraphs more.

Now to the tragic part of this literary vomit and diarrhea of a midnight crawler!

Why would a Homo sapien put a chair and sit in a bathroom serving other Homo sapiens? Livelihood! A way to become invisible!

People, men and women, alike pass those men whose morbid eyes are focused on the frayed ends of the mop with which they are mopping the wet floor, the shit-covered tissue filled receptacles they are emptying, the soap bottles they are re-filling and the toilet seats and sinks they are cleaning.

Do we greet them or wish them well-being and health? No we pretend like they don’t exist or are part of our lives.

Now that’s a shitty job if you ask me. So here is a line for those who constantly complain about life’s fairness and how their lives are hard and their jobs demanding: Stop bitching about your JD 450 – JD 500 – JD 600 – JD 1000 – JD 1500 desk job you pieces of shit and shut the fuck up. Shut the fuck up!

You think your lives suck! Look around and see the hundreds of people who are less fortunate than you and who dabble in shit for less than JD 180 – 200.

You think a hemorrhoids suck just because a doctor gave you the thumb up; well wait until that very same doctor shoves a cold metallic object up your nether hole.

Why would a young man or a woman, more like a teenager, withstand such a situation? He and she probably don’t have much of a choice unlike you, my dear reader, who has the luxury to read this.

If you’ve reached this far I wish to thank you and ask you not to be offended by my words for I assure you that you will be offended more by people you love and care for. It hurts when the knife is pushed by a familiar hand.

Remember the above are the words of an imaginary character living inside the head of a deranged Homo sapien that you most probably don’t know and will never meet.

To be continued or not …