Click. Click. Click! His fingers hit the keys. Pause!
The clicks silently died. Some motherfucker piece of shit lied! They always do with sick minds that they hide under a well coiffed hairdo! Click. Click. Click! Another pause! Confusion slit the throat of his thoughts like a slithering assassin under the shadow of the night. Call it a mental fight or a fanciful flight amidst the clouds that obstruct his jaded jilted judgment … day has arrived.
Children dying … No! Children being killed! The Arab world, the treacherous parts, with empty promises is filled. Lecherous Oil Sheikhs are with our blood thrilled. I hear the weather in Kabul at this time of the year is quite beautiful. Get a hint assholes! Pack up your bags and settle in the mountainous mosquito and cockroach filled holes.
The newborn crucifix holders aren’t any better he thought. Fuck that second cumming shit! Click. Click. Click! Grab a gun and splatter your brain here and thither on the wall of silence. Book a one way ticket to Armageddon. Suck on the cold barrel and vaya con Dios.
Click. Click! Click!
The writer, with a half-dead cigarette hanging between his cracked lips, the keys again hit. Broken sentences falling from his mouth and unto the page; a tissue to his mental drooling.
Click. Click. Click! Who is he fooling?
A third pause! He takes a long look in the mirror where he sees a misfit (by choice) sitting behind a mint green Olivetti typing and typing …
Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click. Click …