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Oct 1st, 2014
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  1. "Every morning it's the same damn thing, you drag yourself from bed to go work some dead end job or take care of ungrateful children for little pay and no appreciation. come home and turn on your TV, only to be flooded by stupidity and prophecies of doom, talk shows blathering on about who's having sex with who or pastors on their shows pushing redemption and their "miracle cures", all for a low, low payment of $19.95 plus tax of course. News reporters saying that there was another attack on the streets or some new terrorist cell popped up and no one is doing anything to stop them. When did the world get so complicated? Everyone wants to blame the innocent or say this is some divine punishment because we strayed off of one out of hundreds of religious paths. But who really is to blame for this? Nobody is really sure of that answer and no body wants to shoulder the responsibility of their mistakes. It's no mystery that times are hard, but they have always been hard. From the middle ages, all the way to today, life has been tough and nothing is going to change that. Young children all over the world are starving while fat cat businessmen hide away in their ivory towers and smoke their stogies and drink scotch while they beat their wives and their own children. Humanity makes me sick. People would rather kill one another over petty differences like the color of their skin or what deity they want to believe in, than bond over the things that make them the same. No one realizes how insignificant anyone actually is. If you compare the size of earth to any of the distant stars or planets in out galaxy, we are less than a grain of sand in the chaotic dance that is our life. People are so content to ruin other people for the gain of a measly piece of paper that only has value because we say it does. The only thing that is ever going to fix the problems with humanity is if we all realize that we're all the same, or we all die, simple as that. It's an ugly truth that no one wants to look at, let alone believe in, and that is truly saddening."
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  3. These were the words I told my shrink as I laid on that stupid leather couch, I hate that damn couch, it always smells like alcohol wipes. I've been coming here twice a week for the last two years and not a fucking thing has gotten better, all I ever hear is "just try to channel your negativity Stephen, you just need more time." Clearly two years hasn’t been enough time for me to get this shit right. So like I always did, I thanked my shrink for his time and left, climbed into my crappy green pinto and drove home, my wife as usual, is sitting at the kitchen table smoking with her sister Regina. They both look up and watch me walk in, eyeing me as I set down my briefcase and loosen my tie. Then Regina has to pipe up with her squeaky ass voice that sounds like a mix of Fran Dresher and a rusty wheel "sooooo, tha great businessman returns home to his fantastic castle" I swear I hate that woman, every damn thing she says is so fucking condescending and sarcastic. So like any good brother-in-law I look at her and say "Oh hi Regina, I didn’t recognize you. I thought my wife made friends with a prostitute and brought her home for coffee and a smoke" The look on her smug face is always priceless, she looks so appalled that I’m talking down to her. After that exchange I walk into my wife and I's room for a shower. As I strip down I can hear that nasally voiced bitch talking shit about me. "ya know, you could do so much better than that man. I know a nice doctor fella downtown, he's loaded and I’m sure he's got a really big di-" I turn the water on full blast and wait for it to warm up, anything to drown out that vapid waste of DNA.
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  6. Nothing like a nice lukewarm shower after a hard day at the office to really put things in perspective for you, God why do I still live in such a shitty apartment? Oh yeah, I’m working at an insurance company for peanuts, that’s why. I suppose some preface is in order, my name is Stephen Brewer. I live in north Houston with my lovely wife Lorraine and our two kids Jack and Brenda. Everyday I wake up at six AM and drive 5 miles in a shitty green pinto, which is held together by duct tape and superglue. I got that emerald green piece of shit from “Big Bob’s Discount Automotive” where I was taken for a ride and had my metaphorical kneecaps crushed. $400 bucks a month on that rolling deathtrap for three years, and Regina never shuts up about it. Did I mention how much I hate that bottle blonde bimbo? Yeah I think I did. After I tempt fate every morning by driving that mechanical turd to my work, I have to sit in a dingy corporate grey cubical hell, doing paperwork and managing accounts, and it’s just my luck that I’m right on the other side of the fucking water cooler. There is always someone there talking about the news or some celebrity drama that no one really cares about. Then comes lunch, which for me is always a leftover doughnut and a cup of shitty coffee that the office ALWAYS keeps in stock, that’s corporate for you but I don’t complain and just drink it anyway. Fast-forward about eight more hours and I’m headed home.
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  8. After I risk my life in that damn pinto, I once again, walk into my house as Regina leaves, a wicked grin on her face. My wife is sitting on the couch, with…bags at her feet. We both know what’s coming next. “Stephen, I’m leaving you. I can’t stand living like this anymore; I’m tired of living paycheck to paycheck and the ki-blah blah blah blah…” I tune her out halfway, we both know this isn’t going to end well, and for a moment she stops talking. Time itself seems to have stopped, just me, her, and the cigarette smoke from Regina lingering in my house. To be honest, I knew this day was coming for a long time, on the nights that I can’t sleep I look at her and know that she’s dreaming of someone else. Yeah she’s probably cheating on me, but I can’t prove it, so I don’t bring it up. We’ve had spats in the past, but a bottle of wine and make up sex always fixed everything. That’s how my two kids happened, funny isn’t it? We’ve got two children and yet she wants to leave, without even bothering to try and work it out for their sake. I’m so tired of all this shit, I bust my ass and work hard to take care of them but look at all this now.
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  10. My blood is boiling right now, that vein in the side of my head decides to do a fucking conga line down to my eye, my face turning red and tears welling up in my eyes. Right now my head is swirling with so many things to say and do. I could calm down and let her walk out, or I could turn into Ed Gein and make a coat out of her. I don’t though. I look up at her and say “Lorraine, just take the kids and go. Go and get THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE! I DO MY BEST TO PROVIDE FOR MY FAMILY AND THIS IS WHAT I GET?! JUST GET THE FUCK OUT!” I didn’t mean to yell, I’ve never been much for conflict, maybe that’s why I’m In the sorry predicament I’m in. But Lorraine picked up her and the kids bags and left.
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  15. After that ugly altercation I went and laid down on our…..my bed, and cried. I was so sick of my life, being overworked and underpaid, fucking Regina and her damn voice. It was official, I’ve reached rock bottom, and now all that’s left is to wait for someone to hand me a shovel…or a gun. I didn’t go into work the next day, I called in and told my boss I had the shits and couldn’t make it. At least he was understanding about it, told me not to worry and to feel better. Truthfully, the only way I’d feel better is if this dingy apartment turned into some nice place in downtown, maybe a penthouse with a self cleaning pool. Sadly though, no matter how many times I blinked as I laid there in the darkness, nothing changed. My bedroom was still the same water stained wallpaper, the carpet was still the old red shag that looks like it was used in a 70’s porno theatre, and my bed still had lumps in the mattress. The only reason I live here still is because it’s all I can afford. Believe it or not, working in insurance doesn’t pay much.
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  17. After a while I heard a knock at the door, and some shouting. I knew exactly who it was, that damn shrew Regina. “Stephen open ya door! I know ya home!” As much as I hate her, I know she won’t leave till I see what she’s harping about. I drag myself out of my bed and walk to my closet, grabbing a small wooden box about one foot by one foot. Inside of this box is an old revolver my grandfather left me when he died. I keep it loaded and such incase of burglaries. Now keep in mind, I don’t want to actually shoot Regina, no matter how much I’d like too. I’m just taking this as insurance incase she wont leave. After I tuck the pistol into the back of my pants, I answer the door and find Regina, and much to my chagrin, she’s still dressed in that gaudy outfit. “What do you want Regina, you know for a fact that Lorraine isn’t living here anymore, or did you just come to gloat about how you ruined my marriage? “
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  19. Regina looks at me and pops her gum, I hate it when people pop their gum it’s disgusting. She bats those beady baby blues at me and I see her contact shift, a hint of brown at the edge of a lie. “Well now, ain’t you a mess. I just came to let you know that my darling sister WAS actually cheating on you, and she wanted you to have this” those lips parted in a smile that revealed fangs. She reached into her purse and handed me a flashdrive, I had an inkling as to what was on it, but I didn’t want to believe it. “Yeah, she wanted you to have some footage of her and her boyfriend and to let you know that jack isn’t your kid.” The sheer amount of joy in this woman’s voice was enough to make anyone go crazy. She was evil, this “woman” was about as evil as they come. While she was reveling in my suffering, I pulled out the pistol from the back of my pants and aimed it right between her eyes, the barrel end touching her forehead. I gave her my best stone-cold-motherfucker-face and said to her “give me one good reason why I don’t blow your God damned head off? You have got to be the most vile person I’ve ever met and I’m sick of your shit, for years I’ve had to listen to you badmouth me and talk shit about how hard I tried to provide for my family. If you ever come to my home again, and darken my doorstep, I WILL kill you.
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  23. “Now open your mouth” Regina was as pale as a ghost, and twice as terrified, she nodded and opened her mouth, into which I stuck the flashdrive, and promptly closed “now get the fuck off my porch.” I lowered the gun and she quickly walked away, her high heels not letting her move very fast. I saw her climb into her car, spit out the flashdrive and speed away, after she made the corner I walked inside and locked my door. I should probably move soon.
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  25. I received a phone call from Lorraine the next day, swearing to me that both the kids are mine and she never cheated on me, and that Regina is just trying to stir the pot further. “Stephen I’m sorry about my sister, I don’t know why she is the way she is, but it bothers me too. I know you have always done your best for me and the kids and we are grateful for it, we just can’t live this way anymore. I didn’t want it to have to come to this, but we really don’t have much choice.” I can tell she’s sincere; she’s on the edge of crying but is fighting it back. She always did that when she was trying to keep it together, I saw her do it when her Mom died, and when her Dad didn’t remember who she was anymore. I answer her back “I know you’re just doing what’s right for the kids Lorry, we always agreed they would come first before anything else. They do deserve better than what they have. Where have you been staying since you left? Last time I saw your bank account info you were kind of broke.” Lorraine’s tone shifts and I hear her lick her lips, she always did that when she was about to lie. I don’t call her on it, because wherever she’s at it’s better than here. “The kids and I have been staying with a friend since we left. We’re safe and well fed. I have to go Stephen, so I’ll call you later. Goodbye”
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  27. Then just like that she’s gone again. I put my phone in my pocket and sit down on the couch, I’ve lost track of the days, and all of it has been one big blur. Has it been a week, a month? Or just a few hours since all of this happened? No one from work has been hounding me and I’m not in need of a shower. I don’t even know anymore. After a few hours of mindless television, I get a phone-call from my boss, from the sounds of things he isn’t very happy. “Brewer you were supposed to be at work by seven AM, where have you been?” I clear my throat and explain what has been going on over the course of the past few days, after hearing that my boss’s tone changes to one a bit more gentle “Aahhhh, I understand Brewer. I went through a divorce myself, nasty business that. Tell you what Brewer; take the rest of the week off as grievance. Take care of yourself man.”
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  29. I guess sometimes corporate throws you a bone when your life hits rock bottom, after finishing that call I turn my phone off, if someone has anything important to tell me, they’ll leave a message. After I lay my head down and close my eyes, I reopen them to find that its night time and I’ve been asleep all afternoon. While stretching and the gratuitous popping of vertebrae resound through my living room, I stand. Shuffling my way to the front door and stepping out on the porch, the warm Texas night air hitting my skin while the mosquitoes start to whine around me “why do I live in this town anyway?” I think to myself “If I could afford it, I’d move out of this Rat hole apartment and head to California. I’ve always wanted to go there….” A large tan mosquito lands on my arm and pierces my skin, I sit and watch it for a moment before clenching my arm, trapping it’s proboscis in my skin. I glare at the little monster and flex my arm, my blood pumping into its body too fast, causing it to burst like a small winged blister. “Heh…I forgot you could do that to mosquitoes…. “
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