Sunday, June 19, 2011

A special place

Confidential to the cowardly li'l bitch who stole my bike from outside Pete's Fresh Market, while I was inside buying groceries for my cancer-stricken mother, at 10:00 on a Sunday morning: May the earth open up and swallow you whole, and send you, screaming all the while like a little girl, down unto the deepest, foulest depths of Hell; and may Satan, by means of introduction, ass-rape you repeatedly with a triple-pronged hot-poker, making ground chuck of your innards; may he gouge out your eyes with bolt-cutters, and flog you with bicycle chains, and drag you, whimpering but still conscious, across a vast plain of barbed-wire and fire-ants until each and every pore of your skin is a locus of infinite pain; and may your mother be made to watch as your ravaged carcass is strapped to a flaming 12-speed and paraded through the various neighborhoods of Hell for the amusement of lesser sinners, who howl derisively and pelt you with dog shit; and may all this suffering and indignity be only the first hour of the first day of your retribution, and may the punishment continue across countless millenia, becoming evermore grotesque and unspeakable.

Failing that, can I please have my bike back?


  1. Hey Liam. Very sorry to hear about your mom. I hope her health improves. Taking care of an ill loved one is far from saintly, but it's still hard as hell, so, all respect for that.

    Way to channel the rage. I've had to do a bit of that lately myself. There's way too much violence inside me and people are far too shitty to be tolerable.