Blog post 'April 24, 2007'
April 24, 2007
- Published: 568 days ago
- Comments: 1
- Reads: 59
Everyday, a tired and jaded old man answers the knock at his front door. Everyday he finds a flamming bag of dog poo. Jaded and tired, he has left himself as a ragdoll for the rest of world. Everyday the neighborhood bastards (or "kids" for the P.C.) will leave a flamming bag of doggy poo on his porch. The old man doesn't harm anyone. He's just a victim of society. He just wants to be left alone. Still, he can't find peace. Every-frickin-day he finds himself stomping out this crappy prank, shaking his fist in the air, and screaming "Truce you fucking bastards! I'm a harmless, tired man, and I ask nothing but my fair share of rights for my share of hard work." Though, all that happens is just a brief moment of exileration washes over him and he's startled back into reality by the distance giggles of the punks hiding in his bushes.
This is an everyday thing.
Life could be so pleasant if the crappy parts weren't so flamming loud with its demands for attention.
The thing is, that just across the street from the old man is another old man. He too is pranked by these hoodlums every-frickin-day. But he never raises hell. He never shuts himself in. And sometimes, it's as though he doesn't even notice it. He reacts so casually to these games. The calm old man across the street never stomps out the bag, he never screams, he knows necessary revenge, but he never goes out of his way to get it.
Finally, one day, the tired old man stops the calm one as he was getting into his car. He talks about the wickedness of life,and how even working hard doesn't guarantee someone that the gods will show pitty on occasion and loosen up on the reins. The other old man says, "Then control your self. Your gods are too busy working the cosmos to be so kind and attentive to working you. It's your life. It's your kingdom, your focus, your reins. The world is and will always be. That is reality. But in this lies your kingdom. One you build, rule, and exist. Flamming bags of poo will always hit our porches, so make sure your porches can withstand the heat. Mine is coated with flame-resistant polyurithane so there's never left-over marks or stains. Not only that, but my bushes are filled with flesh eating poison ivy and thrives of the doggy bags of poo I get daily for free."
Alright then. Now if you're still awake, and not cursing the fact that you will never get back those minutes you wasted reading this, then I hope this has at least inspired some sort of contentment in just knowing that you don't have to live inside my head.
Whithersoever, I ever so love you. I may not respond in luxurious timing, but I will be sending out my love and protection over you continually. Oh, and destroying childrens dreams in the mean time. Geez, why do you think I've been so busy?
We're never perfect, just more tolerable. And today, I was just not born with enough middle fingers.
This is an everyday thing.
Life could be so pleasant if the crappy parts weren't so flamming loud with its demands for attention.
The thing is, that just across the street from the old man is another old man. He too is pranked by these hoodlums every-frickin-day. But he never raises hell. He never shuts himself in. And sometimes, it's as though he doesn't even notice it. He reacts so casually to these games. The calm old man across the street never stomps out the bag, he never screams, he knows necessary revenge, but he never goes out of his way to get it.
Finally, one day, the tired old man stops the calm one as he was getting into his car. He talks about the wickedness of life,and how even working hard doesn't guarantee someone that the gods will show pitty on occasion and loosen up on the reins. The other old man says, "Then control your self. Your gods are too busy working the cosmos to be so kind and attentive to working you. It's your life. It's your kingdom, your focus, your reins. The world is and will always be. That is reality. But in this lies your kingdom. One you build, rule, and exist. Flamming bags of poo will always hit our porches, so make sure your porches can withstand the heat. Mine is coated with flame-resistant polyurithane so there's never left-over marks or stains. Not only that, but my bushes are filled with flesh eating poison ivy and thrives of the doggy bags of poo I get daily for free."
Alright then. Now if you're still awake, and not cursing the fact that you will never get back those minutes you wasted reading this, then I hope this has at least inspired some sort of contentment in just knowing that you don't have to live inside my head.
Whithersoever, I ever so love you. I may not respond in luxurious timing, but I will be sending out my love and protection over you continually. Oh, and destroying childrens dreams in the mean time. Geez, why do you think I've been so busy?
We're never perfect, just more tolerable. And today, I was just not born with enough middle fingers.
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- Trigs
- 1
Comments
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Mabe
- 4117 投趣,
- 人物简介,
- Currently idle,
- 45岁
- 男,
- Stockholm,
- Stockholms Lan,
- Sweden
- Published: 448 days ago
I liked this story... but never the less I really like to rage and shout and shake my fist to the gods and ... yes, I think I'll be the prefect old angry man. Kinda looking forward to it...