Irony

I woke up inside my mind this morning.
I was alone in there and I had no control over it. I spent what felt like hours roaming around the dark depths of my head, building new scars under my feet. Then ground began to quake and the darkness around me began to flicker like a half screwed in light bulb. I bent down and pressed my fingertips against the ground to keep composure. The quakes began to cease and the dark walls of emptiness began to calm. There was a light in the corner of my eyes. I took a gander up toward the sky. There was something floating, giving a dim light that burned my eyes, merely because my eyes had adjusted to the darkness of my mind. The shining came closer. His or her feet had now touched the ground. The ground under me now began to ripple as if he had thrown a rock into a calm river. I could see past the light now. This man wore all white. White t-shirt, white ripped up jeans, white chucks. His eyes were a color I have never seen before. It wasn’t a color that I could describe. It was like he had more than one color residing in his iris. I sat on the ground, possible in awe but mostly because of my sudden fatigue. He bent over and looked straight through my eye and stabbed my brain all the way through, but I was ok. He opened his mouth and said, “YOU MUST KILL THE KING.” Now that I’m good and confused, I looked down to my shoes and chewed my fingernail in contemplation. I looked back at him, who was now closer to my face, and he shot me a smile. He kissed my cheek and I punched him in response. He stood up and asked, “WILL YOU KILL THE KING WITH ME? PLEASE…COME…” He then eerily cracked a smile up the side of his face. His smile was so wide, I thought the corners of his mouth might have met at the top of his shaggy cropped head. He let out a loud, echoing laugh, that swallowed the darkness. I stood to my feet. “Well, Okay.” It honestly didn’t take much. I figured, why not. I figured a little bit of no use. I didn’t bother ask nor think about nor guess who he might be. That might make everything a bad thing. He laughed his echoing laugh.
The atmosphere changed.
The darkness was sucked into his mouth and behind him was a backdrop of City Hall in Philadelphia. Within a blink of the eye, we were inside the pandemonium of a city in havoc and riot. Everyone around me was running, shouting, rioting, screaming, killing. I figured I wasn’t invisible even though they just ran passed me paying me no mind. I guess it was either the circumstances that I was in or the person, who was now dressed in an all white suit, with his hand on my shoulder. I was a good height; about 6’2, but he still bellowed over me with at least half a foot of height over me. He was father like. He began walking and gestured for me to follow him. He walked through the havoc as if it wasn’t going on. As if he had seen this all before, while I followed behind him gazing every which way to see the acts. There were so many buildings in flames. So many hurt officers. I followed him through the middle of city hall. There were people running from the subways, waving anarchy flags, screaming, “Anarchy Is Alive!!” We kept walking as he paid no mind to his surroundings. We arrive at the front of a very tall building. There were no broken windows, no fires, no damage done to the building as far as I could see up. It was as if it wasn’t in touch with the city around it. Walked through the glass automatic sliding doors. While I was in the doorway there was an explosion. I looked behind me and saw some radical teens looting a music store. The store was in flames when they jumped out the window on fire, smiling and laughing hysterically. Smashing guitars, drums, trumpets, anyhting. They let the fire seep into their skin. I shrugged my shoulders. He walked up to the lady at the front desk. Classic secretary. Glasses with the string attached behind the ear, a “cute” little mole/beauty mark above the lip. He gave her a smile. “GOOD AFTERNOON, LACEY.” For some reason his voice still echoed in between my ears. She looked up. “Good afternoon boss. Oh! Is he here to kill the boss?” “WHY YES HE IS.” I didn’t bother ask what he was the boss of nor who the king was that I was about to kill. I figured the less I know is the less that can be held against.
Don’t condemn me in my time of faux ignorance.
We entered the elevator and he pressed floor 69. We went up. The sounds of war were muffled. He looked at me and let out a little smile.
“ARE YOU READY TO MURDER THE KING?” He had a look of sympathy. His face was father like, at times father-like. I looked at the floor and bit my fingernail. Then, looked up at him with my thumb tip in my mouth. He put his hand on my head, as if I were a little kid or a dog. Same thing. He said
“DON’T WORRY. I WILL BRUSH UP ALL THE DIRT.” I said ”Okay”. There was nothing to think about. I think I tried to think but when I thought that I was thinking I realized that there was nothing more to think about. I thought that I thought it didn’t matter anymore.
We reached the 69th floor.
Once we stepped out the elevator, the screams of a city in terror could no longer be heard. It was a room full of office cubicles with no people. He walked me to the presidents office. It was large with large glass windows showing the wrecked, apocalyptic city. Philadelphia was in turmoil from what I saw when I gazed out the window. He tapped my shoulder and handed me a black berretta. I looked at it in the palm of my hand, then gripped it. He pointed to the large chair behind the desk and said
“THERES THE KING WAITING FOR HIS DEATH…” “Okay.” I walked over to the large leather chair and took a seat. I spun myself around a little bit. I pulled myself up to the desk and went pondering around inside his drawers. Then I looked up at him, who was standing about 7 feet away from the front of the desk. I sat back, nice and relaxed in the chair. Then I put the berretta to my temple. He looked at me and said
“IT WAS ALWAYS GREENER ON THE OTHER PESTICIDE.”
The corners of his smile rose to the top of his head till they touched each other. Till his head was engulfed with his smile full of sharp teeth and a purple vortex.
I pulled the trigger.
And then I began to think…

Wake Up With Dirty Demerits In Corner Of My Eye

Death awaits me as i regain conciousness. I open my eyes. Vision is blurry. My eyes begin to burn. As i raise my head up, the color changes from a blurry periwinkle and into a flash of light yellow. My hair is dripping back into the pool of unknown liquid that i awoke in. I hope its not the same liquid as before. I cough. Blood sprays out. I look at my blood dissolve into the water. "What the hell am i on right now?"

While staring down at the water, I run through a list of possible senarios in my head:

I was drugged by the government. Last night at the pub, the lovely lady(or so it seemed during my intoxication) that i was conversating to about Paulie Shore's plot to turn the population of Philadelphia into a hoard of newspaper eating cavemen, was actually a government agent. A male government agent dressed up, for no female on this earth could withstand the alluring scent of alcohol on my breath and my rusty, unshaven beard. They would instantly fall to their knees and beg for my children......While i went to the bathroom to spit at the image of myself in the mirror, the agent must have slipped a government drug into my drink.... one of my many drinks that i had at the bar counter. When i came back from the bathroom, happier than before, I downed the remaining four mugs of pissy smelling juices. henceforth not remembering anything after. But it probably involved the government probing my brain and the rest of my body, stealing the useful information that is secretly well hidden in the depths of my gonads.

I was caught in a brawl in the alley across the street from the Pencil Mart on Liver Street. A tussle with the armidillos from Section 9 of South Philly. They found out about me releasing my bowels on their leaders billboard. They attacked because its their only form of product advertisment since their commercial got banned of the air for making Santa Claus look like a pedophile.

I strolled into the anarchist bookstore and saw Paul Barman sitting behind the counter sitting behind the counter, sipping coffee in a "Stab Stab Stab" mug and reading a book called "The Art Of Stumbling Awkwardly". He looked up at me and gave me some dap. I then took the dap and stuck it in my pocket. I might possible need it later when i sob in the darkest corner of my home, because of the radio next door playing such blasphemous music such as Lady Clitterdahsk. I walk around the Anarchist Bookstore hoping to find some literature that was a little more....anarchy. I stumbled upon a book called "Making 3rd Grade History Teachers Upset". It instantly caught my eye and my hand raced for it. When my hand gripped the book, it was met by a bulky black, hairy-knuckled(Kah-nukk-uhled) fist. My eyes followed the hand back up the arm, to the owners face. I couldn't really see anything but eyes. His face was pitch black. It shocked me honestly. My first reaction was to shove my foot deep into his colonary system. As I cocked my foot back to project it into his(or its) rectum, he smiled at me. A very soft, innocent smile. Teeth and eyes. I stopped and then looked into his deep soft brown eyes and felt sympathy for him(or it) as if it were as sick fat bunny. Then I flicked a dread from my eye, cocked my foot back as swiftly as i could, and blasted my foot forward to his crotch. I grinned and got ready to laugh when he was to fall to the floor with a tear in his eye....... It didn't happen this way. Instead, my foot got stuck. In what, I don't know. His smile disappeared until it was just eyes again. I struggled to remove my foot from whatever it was stuck in but it just wouldn't budge. Then he looked at me and said "I like to keep my butthole in the front. BWAHAHA!"I was shocked. He grabbed my throat with great ferocity. I was ripped from his frontal anus and lifted off the ground. I had lost feeling in my foot. I cursed under my breath."Big ape, buffoon, neanderthal. Is it really ok to try to cause people pain who have done nothing to you. Pillow biter. Kitty licker."He then carried me outside. My face, by this time, had started turning blurple. He was looking around. He noticed the light shining from the statue in the pool/fountain at the middle of the city. I saw his teeth again as he formed a horrible grin. The he cocked me and his arm back and tossed me over the city, into the pool/fountain.Sylvia and Jehosophat plotted against me once again. They sent out the elderly ladies from the retirement home on Slithroat Street. the paraded through the door and started singing xxxmas caroles while i was in bed sleeping. The broke out into song and dance around my bed. I got up and walked through the bundle of ladies to my closet. I pulled out my blood stained bat and began pounding each one of them over the head and face. It didn't seem to be working. Each time i'd hit one, they'd fall and pop up with two more ladies. The were spontaneously reproducing. They began singing louder and louder. They hooked their arms around mine. My ears began to bleed. I then decided that death was more enjoyable than dealing with Sylvia and Jehosophat's bullyish. I reached under my bed and pulled out a bottle of my special liquor. I only use this liquor on special occasions. I then poured it over my head and let it drizzle down my body. I then took a match and struck it against one of the old ladies dry lips. As a chunk of her lip cracked off, i threw the lit match over my head. It land in the center of my dome and I combusted into flames. I then ran around the house one more time maniacally. Naked and on fire. I then gave The kids a disrespectful finger and jumped out the window, into the pool/fountain, still holding my disrespectful finger.


These are the only logical happenings that could cause me to wake up here...