Date:	2006-08-03 00:51
Subject:	Chapter Four
Security:	Public
Mood:	awake

“But mom, I would much rather stay here,” cried the small boy as his mother attempted to pry him away from the swing sets, gazing nervously at the blackened sky for signs of rain.
“We have to go home now sweetie,” her voice still calm, trying to charm the boy. “The storms going to start any minute now.”
“But mom,” whined the boy in obvious distress “we just got here a little while ago, and I like playing in the rain.”
“We got here over two hours ago,” corrected the woman. “It will start to thunder and lightening too.”
“I’m not afraid of the lightening,” said the boy puffing out his chest. “I’m not afraid of anything.”
“Well sometimes it’s our fear that keeps us alive,” lectured the woman. “It stops us from doing foolish things and getting hurt.”
“Nothing can hurt me,” insisted the boy, looking quizzically at his mother smirking slightly.
“Daniel, I want you to come over here right now,” continued the woman with a note of sternness in her voice now. “We’re going home right now.”
“Fine,” spat Daniel, and offended joined his mother taking her hand.
“They walked down the main street, trotting past the butchery and the bakery where a large rosy cheeked woman gave them a smile and a wave. At the bank they turned right and were met by an angry growl of thunder.
“My dear, we better get home soon,” commented the woman. “I hope your father came home early and closed all the windows.” Just as she spoke these words the rain started falling in large numerous drops upon the woman and small child.
“Oh no,” sighed the woman eyeing her already soaked clothing as Daniel squealed with delight. The small town house became visible at the bottom of the street and the woman began to shuffle in a kind of jog, dragging her son behind her. She flew up the stairs, threw open the door and ushered the boy inside.
The woman let out a small tut noise as she looked down at her son. You’re soaking wet.”
“That’s ok,” smiled the boy, sucking the wetness from his sleeve.
“Now you stay right here till I find you a towel and a change of clothes.” The boy was left standing on the doormat humming placidly to himself. She appeared in a bathrobe some minutes later with a towel and pajamas.
“You will catch your death in those wet clothes,” she told him, stripping them off and drying him.
“I’m not cold,” insisted the boy seriously, “I won’t catch anything.”
“O.K. than just make mommy happy and get into your jammies.” He changed and settled down on the couch while his mother searched around the house for a stray window she may have forgotten to close.
When satisfied that the whole house was secure she settled herself next to her son and switched through the channels until stopping at jeopardy.
“I wonder where your father is,” she asked aloud to her son who was already sucked into the waves of satellite T.V. “I hope he isn’t too late, I want to get dinner ready.”
Hours later she was pacing back and forth in hysteria when her husband failed to come home. She kept muttering “where could he be?” to herself over and over, so agitated that she burnt the pot roast and veggie bag, abandoned in the oven.

Edgar slouched home in the pouring rain nursing a broken arm received in a workplace accident at the bank. A lunatic with white raving hair and crooked eyes pounded fists upon the counter demanding access to her safe full of precious keepsakes and valuables. He only had fifteen minutes left before he had to clock out, and he didn’t want to leave late. Everyone was jabbering about some storm and he wanted to go home to close all his windows before his house turned into a fish tank. Finally he gave in, giving a small sad shake of his head as he lifted the divider between employee and customer ushering her inside and leading the way down the hall. The hall was lined with clocks. Some big some small, some wrist some chain, some you couldn’t even see at all. “To keep the time,” he explained to the awed frumpy customer, “just in case one stops working, or perhaps decided to lie about the time.” Edger gave a chuckle and bade the clocks farewell as they entered a door into a new corridor. It smelled of fresh paint and was crammed with hundreds of safes of different variety and manufacture. He stopped to pick a dangling strip of flesh from his pinky toe than slid over to the vending machine.
He placed the money in the slot and pressed down twice upon the button labeled Aquafina. “It’s a long walk,” he remarked handing her the bottle. We wouldn’t want to get dehydrated on the way. She shrugged and took the bottle, steadying herself on both limbs.
“I hope this won’t take too long,” insisted the woman after walking to the beat of rapt silence for 45 minutes. “I just wanted to check on the family jewels, before the storm you know.”
“Yea sure lady,” he replied not even trying to mask his disgust. “I understand.” Now he would be late for dinner. She made an indignant sound and continued to follow. After the second hour she began to weep that her feet were killing her and that she swore she felt a hernia starting somewhere below her navel. “Just drink some of that water,” he replied. “You asked for this lady not me.” He shot a defiant glance at one of the wealthiest, yet obviously more idiotic clients partnering with East Coast banks. “I tried to tell you but you insisted.”
“The storm,” she said voice full of warning. “I would feel a lot better through the whole ordeal if I could confirm the safely of my most prized possessions. I really must be quick though,” she said nervously, “or I will have to drive home in the thick of it.”
“Not like you will be driving,” he thought clenching his teeth, allowing his irritation to escape him in a low hiss.
“What was that,” asked the woman, her face becoming stern.
“I was just agreeing with you,” mumbled Edgar, stopping in front of the largest safe. He brought a small computer device from his breast pocket, moving around figures with a small, angle tipped stylus. He turned to the panel aligned with numbers zero through nine and punched in a ten digit code.
The heavy door swung open and the pair were blinded by an array of colorful shiny stones and huge columns of silver and gold. Edger approached the safe, reaching a hand inside to select a stone for the client’s inspection. As soon as his hand entered the safe however, it was slammed with such force the locks sprung back into place, ignoring the fleshy barrier between. He screamed with agony and avoided her violent advances grazing his unprotected face and torso.
“Are you trying to steal my diamonds!” she screamed as Edgar tried desperately to free himself.
“I wasn’t trying to steal your fucking diamonds,” he slobbered, slipping in and out of consciousness from the pain. “I took you all this way and your gonna look at a fucking diamond you crazy fucking bitch.”
The rich woman gaped at him, “Well you can be sure I will be taking my business elsewhere,” she sneered as if at this particular moment he really cared. He stretched his arm out toward the panel but could barely touch the surface with his fingertips.
“Just please get me out of here lady,” he whined his voice rising in a pathetic crescendo.
“I don’t think I will,” she said and turned down the corridor humming softly to herself.
“You can’t!” he screamed feeling blood dripping down his mutilated elbow, “You can’t get out of here without me, if they see you, you will be arrested and charged with multiple felonies. Maybe even shot.”
She turned around, surveying the situation and finally asked “well how do I open this thing? And please hurry with the explanation, the storm, you know.”
“Yes I know,” he gasped. “Ok just take the pompilot from my front pocket and I’ll tell you the code. She removed the device from his pocket, giggling slightly as she grazed a nipple, than stared at it with puzzled amazement.
“I don’t know how to work any of these new things,” she replied skeptically. ‘I wasn’t born in this generation you know.”
“All you have to do,” said Edger trying to remain calm “just type it in with the stylus onto the screen.”
“Okeedokie,” she replied doing what she was told. “Now what,” she asked impatiently looking around for a window.
“Type in the code and that’s all.” Her fingers moved painfully slow, and after the fourth digit she stopped momentarily to take a swig from a bottle of aspirin.
“Goshdarn child proof tops!” she exclaimed, returning once again to the code. The code was finally finished and following Edger’s instructions the woman popped the latch and swung the door open. Edgar’s arm oozed from the door and he fell to his knees. The arm was badly torn and broken in a variety of places.
“Are you done here?” he asked angrily gingerly nursing the wounded arm.
“Why yes as a matter of fact I am,” she said still haughty.
“Thank God,” he replied, taking out a key and opening a door to the left. They appeared in the middle of the lobby, which was quickly emptying due to the panic of the storm.
“What!” squealed the woman in disbelief, “why didn’t we just go that way in the first place?”
“Door only opens from the inside,” he replied gathering his things and making for a hasty retreat.
“I don’t believe this!” she screamed, stamping her feet on the floor and balling her hands into fists.
Edger bundled up and than made his way out the door while the owner was trying to appease the disgruntled woman. He made his way into the parking lot, searching his pockets for his keys as he went rushing toward the door. He got to the car but found no key. He checked every pocket at least four times before looking into the car. There, in the ignition, sat the keys.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” yelled Edgar, soaking wet, bleeding, and shivering through his woolen vest. He stomped back toward the bank, threw open the doors and got on the phone.
“Hello? Triple A? Yea my name is Edger Munch and I’m on the corner of planter street at the North Coast bank, and I think, I mean I don’t think I know that I accidentally left my car keys in the ignition this morning, and than going to work locked all the doors, so you see the problem that this creates for me now,” said Edgar very quickly whipping a string of mucus from his running nose.
”Wha?” answered a lazy voice on the other line, “you locked your keys in your car or somethin’?”
“Well yea sure, I guess you could put it that way to, but could you send someone over right away?”
“Well why didn’t you just say that?” asked the voice in wonderment, “You don’t have to be so sneaky about it.”
“I’m sorry!” yelled Edgar, “Just send someone over to unlock the door so I can go home.” His face was now distorted with rage as he began to break down before everyone’s eyes.
“Well I’m sorry but I can’t do that,” replied the voice.
“Why not!” asked Edgar exhausted and irritated.
“Just cant”
“We’ll there must be a reason!”
“The storm, triple A closes early today.”
“Well why couldn’t you just say that!” Edgar was jumping up and down now biting his tongue to keep from yelling.
“I’m sorry sir,” said the voice sounding unfriendly, “You will just have to take a walk.” The phone clicked and dial tone persisted for about two minutes before Edger could snap out of his stupor and realize the whole place was staring at him.
“We better get home before the bad weather hits,” remarked a mousy man inn a nervous call for redemption.
“Oh yes of coarse, chirped the others, following him out the door. The owner of the bank and Edger’s boss looked down his nose and in his snobby English accent declared “You’re fired!” to the poor crumpled figure of Edger Much lying at his feet sobbing into his handkerchief like some rumpled oversized baby.
“Get out, your getting blood all over my carpet,” he said next, and security escorted him into the freezing rain.

Date:	2006-07-13 00:06
Subject:	chapter two
Security:	Public
Mood:	crappy

The junkies scrambled to and fro for the fix that would carry them on numb wings over and under the furious weather. They expelled cravings in clusters, the wind and rain blending with bright colors and drug induced stupors. Days melted like minutes except in the absence of needle, HIV and hepatitis providing a candy coated pain amidst the daydream. If the downpour threatened to enter through the card boarded and duct taped openings in the walls they would scuttle away like crabs on raw and bloody hands and feet. Due to flash flooding they soon became part of the scenery when sucked out to sea.
A long legged man shuffled down the alleyway, plowing through the light rain that was becoming increasingly harder with every block he stumbled. He flung himself onto the sidewalk than scrambled onto the dry, familiar stoop.
He looked around for a moment than selected the door to the right and began banging on it.
“What do you want,” snarled a voice from inside. A baby started crying and a woman made frantic hushing sounds.
“Um hey it’s Nicky, just wondering if I could come inside for a sec.”
“Go away!”
“Comeon Jim, just for a second I promise.” Nicky shifted his feet nervously.
“Fine, but don’t come here in the middle of the goddamn night again.” The chain slid slowly from the slider and the door opened a crack. A brown bloodshot eye stared at Nicky from the opening. “What do you want?”
“Anything you got,” said Nicky peeking the concealed 500 dollars into Jim’s view.
Jim considered the bribe for a moment than opened the door and invited him inside.
The apartment was small and shabby with one main room and a bathroom. The wall paper curled from the wall like an ingrown toenail, and the air was heavy with the smell of tobacco and dirty diapers. The woman was sitting on the moth eaten couch, knitting a small yellow sock from a ball of knarled yarn. She looked up, and Nicky was surprised to find a pretty face, although lined and sagging slightly with strain and junk sickness.
Jim walked over to the closet next to the bathroom and opened the folding doors. Nicky couldn’t see what was inside, but Jim seemed to be picking things up and mulling them over. Finally he pulled away from the closet holding a decent sack of powder, and held it up for Nicky to examine.
“Straight from Amsterdam,” commented Jim. “Picked up some of this stuff the last time we were there. It’s a real specialty.” He turned his gaze from the sack to Nicky’s face. “How much money did you say you had?”
“500 dollars,” answered Nicky, bracing himself for an intense haggle.
“Well,” Jim’s eyes had moved back to the sack now. “I suppose I could sell you half of this for 500 dollars.”
Nicky eyed the contents of the bag and said “I couldn’t take a little more of this off your hands? I mean, 500 dollars should be able to buy three quarters of that bag, no matter what the quality.”
“You come here and disturb me and my family and now you think you can make the rules to? Half and that’s my final offer. If you don’t like it than you can get out now. This is what you get for coming here so goddamn late.” He began to turn back toward the closet but Nicky stopped him.
“Ok, ok half it is than.” He frowned and Jim went back to weighing the powder. He finished by twisting a twisty around the balloon, dangling it just out of Nicky’s desperate grasp.
“Now give me my money,” said Jim, eyeing the 500 bucks already waiting in Nicky’s hand. Nicky gave him the money and Jim handed him the bag.
“Can I shoot up here?” asked Nicky as he made his way to the sofa.
“No, get out, I told you I wanted you out,” he replied settling into his armchair.
“Awww comeon,” whined Nicky in an unusual high pitched voice, “It’s raining out there and it’s a long walk home.”
“Fuck you and get out,” answered Jim jumping out of his chair. “Its bad enough I have to deal with you scumbags during the day.” Nicky didn’t need to be told twice. He got up and went for the door, disappearing into the dark and rain.

Date:	2006-07-12 16:07
Subject:	The Storm....chapter one
Security:	Public
Mood:	uncomfortable

The rain sloshed down in sheets, pounding against the windows as if to confirm the warnings of type five hurricane screeching up and down every television on the north coast. The people were panicking now, scared inside their well built houses with pink flamingos perverting their lawns. Their paranoid pupils remained glued to the screen, ears perked to hear any new news about the coming disaster. The storm had been described as some sort of abominable snowman, carrying away small children at 130 mph winds, launching them into rivers or trees saving them until later for a midnight snack.
Two hours earlier the supermarkets had been so packed people had to climb over one another to reach the produce counter. A frenzy of yelling and screaming citizens scared to death by the new threat nature imposed on them clawed their way desperately through the crowds. Broken high heels lay in piles next to the deli, ditched by their owners in an attempt to gorge the individual in front of them in line with the urgency to get home before the real damage began.
A scream ran through the mob as a desperate employee smashed a jar of pickles to the floor in an attempt to obtain everyone’s undivided attention. The sound of broken glass drove them wild as they stared wide eyed in every direction for a sign of a broken window where the dreadful elements could sneak inside. An overweight boy of 16 tried desperately to cling to a five foot ladder as he stacked cans of cocacola, but was trampled viciously when a renegade handbag full of cement clunked him in the head and rendering him unconscious. At the checkout counters the fingers of the cashiers and baggers flew, blisters forming and popping pus all over a heavy woman’s bushel of broccoli, fingers praying there would be a break in the mad scramble for goods so they could finally have rest.
The proud and pompous manager came waltzing from the backroom counting bills with a smile from ear to ear. “Good work boys! We haven’t made this much money since the quadruple tornado warning in 1976! We’ll be rich after today you mark my words.”
“Yea,” mumbled a disgruntled acne scarred teenager “but I will still only get paid 7.25 an hour.”
“What was that soldier?” asked the manager with a manic glint appearing in all 26 visible teeth in his green hording smile.
“Can we go home now?” complained another, this time a girl in a mini skirt oblivious to the low temperatures and increasing wind speed. “I don’t wanna drive home in this shit tonight.” She grimaced, blowing a large bubble from the wad in her mouth and popping it over her face.
The manager glanced over at the schedule posted up on the back wall, as the girl picked gum from under her nose. “It says here Malory that you are here until 8:30.” He gave her a cheesy smile and a soft punch on the arm, “so I suppose you can get out of here at about 10:00 if things start to die down.” He turned back towards the office door smiling and bright as ever, the girl Malory staring open mouthed at the closing office door.
“I can’t take this anymore!” screamed the acne smeared boy, grabbing a can of stewed beats from a confused old woman in a pink sweatshirt that read “I survived the storm of ’86,” and bashed himself with it on the head until he fell face down on the conveyer belt. The ruffled woman, enraged, grabbed the can from his cold fingers and declared she wasn’t going to pay for the dented can. The employees watched helpless as she marched out the door and disappeared behind the monsoon.
Malory jumped up onto the conveyor belt, her high heeled legs wobbling dangerously. “I don’t know about the rest of you motherfuckers,” she looked around at the deformed and angsty employees, “but I’m getting the fuck outta here!” Cheers followed this announcement as she jumped from the counter, knocking acne boy to the ground. Grabbing plastic bags from behind the counter she ran through the isles stuffing the bags with food from the shelves. A braided girl with braces followed her through the isles whooping as the rest began to abandon their posts to pillage the supermarket which had kept them prisoner for so long.
The customers began to shift restlessly in lines growing ever longer, watching the spectacle with hands over their mouths and hardly daring to believe where the order in this establishment had gone. Than they snapped out of the trance and began to snatching as much as they could carry, out the door, and into their cars.
The manager ran out of the office with the absence of the toothy smile he had supported before and started screaming like a lunatic to get back to battle stations. An abnormally large zucchini descended upon him, catching him in the diaphragm, and wheezing he fell to the ground gasping for breath. Now the excited employees cried “Mutiny! Mutiny! Mutiny!” squashing and caging him into the shopping cart with roles of duct tape and chicken wire they found in isle five. He tried in vain to bring order to the crowd as he and the cart were taken out back and pushed down a grassy hill slick with rain, the cart toppling onto its side.
Back inside the mob was stuffing their carts with stolen goods to get them through the storm. And maybe a little bit more.

Date:	2005-04-28 14:57
Subject:	choking on infintile blubber
Security:	Public
Mood:	blank
Music:	doors

Fatal power surge sends us back to the stone age, splintered toenails applied orally calm humming nerves and fill empty stomachs. The buzz has transformed into a dull roar, can no longer be ignored. We'll repair it for purchase cost. Waste never weeps when it dies young. The menonites scratch themselves feebly as the horrid erection slowly subsides. The distance between me and another sickening shortness with hideous long. The long term effect of forieghn chemicals colliding and intermingling with long time residents. Motion is created from hand, but cannot terminate sequence of collision. Strait into the death star. Intracellular light and the fear of garden snakes on cold harsh mornings. I will work harder. I will get screwed harder with no sexual implication other than the general hacking of bussom. Removal of plumage, and possible mates scowl with discust. The little plantation boy selling negros for change exclaim "we like what we do here," and the negro respond "we're the ones working here." Potatos which fill sack after sack. meal for the mongoloid dried carrots and watery mash. A sexual organ doner vomit livers for mother, but she cant be thankful for sacrifice. Everyone leans one way or the other, unless your impaled to the fence. Dracula counts his victums in the morning. They inch backward with gasious intestine, but he can hardly wait. Crusted charcol steak with sauce of blood from the recently slaughtered. Ringing ears in obvious pleasure, munching lightly on the chew, which has turned green. The open well beckons the eager toddler with a gleeful girgling. Castrated on the way up and broken on the way down. A resounding splash and the unmistakeable sound of gnashing teeth. The hallways were laced with granduer, reflecting the desire of ownership and splendor. the floors fill up with water and than its no more. Sunk to the bottom of the sea, nestled into its cemetary. We pay rent on our plot, 300 bucks a month. Wake up with our neaks hurting, decomposing no excuse for late payment. Ejection, rejection, out on the street wraped in gauze. Padded barroom the party stops, sucking the life away in its company. Copulation replaces dirty socks, and feet sigh in silent relief. Gerneral and impersonal maneuvers of masculine poise, to produce. Replicas can be put to better use, in the mindless waiting for removal in numbers. Get out ofour tribe, your seamen lacks the dark red color. Pounding the floor with bloody fists as the phycopath tenant downstairs grins, and with melevolance begins to disassemble hide with magnem. Organized according to size, drain fluid for butchers block. Leaking rooves and sunburnt walls shelter those weakened from hard years work. And they ask themselves, what was this worth but in return there is no reply.

Date:	2005-04-03 21:55
Subject:	fuck the whole entire world than burn it to the ground
Security:	Public
Mood:	annoyed
Music:	Radio head

Hell. Hell on earth is here. Apocolypse is welcomed by the eight bored students in the first, second, and third rows of the white walled classroom. The insane asylum. We were put here by accident, but never the less by choice. Keep control. Keep control of your mind before it is carried away by the agent glaring from the front of the room. She stands on two legs and contains Homo Sapian charactoristics, but she is not human. She doesnt want to wait for bacteria to have sex. Bacteria fucking with no passion, no interest, and she just cant wait. The prison restricts enzymes, and the crams and squirmiong discomfort sets in. The eight children grind their teeth to stop their tounges from becomming flagellant, try to stay in control. in control of their anger. In control of their dissatisfaction. In control of the situation. None of us will grow properly. Teacher teaches with a limp, dragging her bulk behind her ignoring her ignorance giggling about what she thinks is a halarius coincidence that all her students should fail. Laughter that grates against the temphoric membrane causing a slight but irritating ringing in its wake. The sothing music triggers something, something horrid and unexpected, the release of chemicals into the blood stream that creates the irrisistable urges of violence and disire to slaughter. Slaughter than consume. Starve for 48 hours before death. The purging of toxins. Butcher, prepare, and perseve. Put the kitten in the blender. Let it scream. Put is on the side for an appatizer. Pick past the hair and bones, dont choke. If you do, you will not survive. The meat will decay in the freezer. The bacteria will chew through the fats and membranes and shit it out. Human, steaming pile of shit. Chemotherapy, the biggest hoax we have ever known. The promise of life always results in death. Baptism is loss of soul. Unmercyful country wont let us die. Persistant vegitative state. Alive but cannot communicate. no one can communicate how they want to. No one can say what they really want to say. Nerve endings makes eyes light up at smile, but brain is sleeping. Brain will always be asleep. Let me help you breathe, let me help you eat. you cant taste of smell the air, but thank god its there. Because we are so afraid to die. The belief of god, but the fear of meeting god. The pathetic faith of a child. The united states repels faith with olive oil to discontinue leakage of dangerous chemicals that could potentially stunt the flow of tax money to the top. Necrophelia is not good for buisness, 8 years in prison. For feeling and fucking the dead. For degrading the body of one of our fine citizens. That will never do. The property w0ould become besmirched with seamen and morbid lust. We blame everything on chemicals, chemicals inside the body. Chemicals in brain create suicide. You lost control, you lost control of your chemicals and now your screaming without realizing your screaming. They scream back and they tell you not to loose control. Your crying now, and you dont know how you got here. Lost. Terribly lost. and the voices drone on. You try to listen, but honestly, you dont understand one word they say. But honestly, you dont care. You dont really care about much anymore. You dont care so much you order a labotomy. Hammer goes tap tap tap into the cornor of the eye, scraping malicously at the frontal lobe to stunt motor skills and skeletal movements. Persistant vegitative state creates salvation and saliva, salvation through termination of communication. Lost all substance. Gained salvation through loss of substance. Communication cuse loss of substance. Ignorance is salvation.

Date:	2005-02-22 20:34
Subject:	The peculiar posioning
Security:	Public
Mood:	nauseated
Music:	Hail to the Theif

Larry Lumpkin burned his bum on the kettle when the cock was crowing dawn. He stretched and yawned, unable to place the mystifying scent filling his kitchen. He realized he had left the faucet running, and clambered from the roost onto the floor, face first with a loud smack like a belly flop. Shaking himself he jumped up and crossed the room to the dribbling sink, cutting off the flow of water with a twist.
The kettle began to froth and bubble, so Mr. Lumpkin fetched three cups from the cubbard with the utmost haste, and executed the flame causing the violent reaction. He added tea bags and hot water to the cups, settling down to have a smoke. He pulled out a squashed lucky strike from the soft pack which lay mangled and torn in the back pocket of his pajama pants. With a flick of the Zippo the butt was ignited and ready for take off. He smoked as he surmised the events that would take place that day. 9:00. Jerry Springer. 10:00. Take mid morning nap. 2:00. Steven Kings "IT" premiering for the first time on cable television, station 64, Scifi. 8:00. Dinner with shots of Bourbon, than falling asleep to the history Channel.
He snuffed the fag into the blue oyster shell ashtray. Bones creaking from age shuffled to the counter to tend the steeped tea, He squeezed the tea bags and threw them into the trash, removing his foot from the blackened protruding lever letting the tin lid place itself with a clatter.
He poured exactly one teaspoon of shuger in each cup, loading the spoon and leveling the shuger off the top for full and complete accuracy in measurement.
He opened the door to the refrigerator and stared inside, Half a gallon of milk, microwave dinner, a moldy block of cheese, and half of a salami sandwich he had purchased the day before from the deli down the street. He snatched the milk, promising the salami sandwich he would come back for him in due time. He let a few large drops of milk plop into the cups than returned it.
Trying hard not to spill, Mr. Lumpkin carried the three mugs to the table and set them down in front of his chair. He picked up the paper and after a few minutes grasped the first mug, bringing it to his lips. No sooner had the liquid come in contact with his pallet it was spewed from his disgusted lips all over the sports section. He picked up the cup and smashed it onto the wall above the sink, sending tea and bits of plaster flying in all directions.
He ignored this and continued reading the soggy paper, oblivious to the fact the ink was running so badly it was illegible.
He took a swig from the second cup, and it, like the first was rejected and ejected into the wall, landing admist the ruble from the first damaged cup. The page of the newspaper was turned, and he tutted as he passed the obituaries. The third cup was absent mindedly received, and he began guzzling the content greedily. He sucked until the last drop soaked his satisfied tongue and his belched echoed in the lonely kitchen.
All at once he had stopped reading his paper as a burning sensation crept through the lining of his stomach, burning his throat and eyes rolling madly in their sockets. He glanced toward the counter and read with contempt the green angular bottle labeled DRANO in large white letters. he gasped as the came to the realization someone had poisoned him. He foamed from the mouth like a mad dog clawing at his throat and cursing the air. A furious anger rose in him as he thought of the half finished salami sandwich and attempted to drag himself towards the refrigerator. As the door handle was grasped with sweaty hands he lost consciousness and died on the tea splattered kitchen floor.

Date:	2005-02-08 20:41
Subject:	fucked by an orchid
Security:	Public
Mood:	groggy
Music:	phish

The female wasp climbs upward through the earths womb, fighting against the sandy placenta and protein. The earths crust gives way and she takes her first desprate gasp of fresh morning air. Not too much time to look around though, and she promptly selects a suitable stem and begans to cimb to the top. She reaches the top and an indescribable feeling of acomplishment swells inside of her. She attaches herself to the spiny surface of the root and her alluring musk is released from deep within her bosom and is carried away by the gently blowing breeze. A male wasp smells the beautiful perfume and prompty searches the flowers below for the source. He spots her and flies down to make her his bride. He attaches himself to her as she is drinking the sweet nector, her first and last meal. He takes to flight still attached to her forming a new gerneration of wasps. He than brings her home, to the place he found her, where she was born and where she will die. He leaves without the passion to look back at the woman he had loved so dearly. She tenderly makes her way down the stems and reaches the sandy hole she had crawled from. She crawls into the coffin, borrowing far enough to incubate her eggs and corpse.
The Orchid paces side to side in his palace, back and forth with the wind that blew from the south with promises of summer. Atop his mighty brow is the fluffy efigy of the female wasp, its tricky purfume dazzleing nearby mates. A male approches with the blush of a youth and attaches himself to the unresistable imposter. He feels the impulse to fly off with his catch, but the maiden would not budge. The male is catapolted with a terrified squeal into a mass of sticking goo. But unlike the instict of the others in his species he does not stuggle. He does not fight against the death that is fighting relentlessly to be invited. He lies back into the seeping grave, a failer among his kind and welcomes the clammy hands of death.

Date:	2005-02-04 14:45
Subject:	The bizzare circus bonanza
Security:	Public
Mood:	drained
Music:	Elliot Smith

The bizzare. Circus. Bonanza. The horribly grotesque illusion, observed by the perverts and pedifiles scrabbling about the nausious earth. Midgets attached to pegles clunk awkwardly, sticky mouths devouring flufy lumps of heart disease along with the scene. "I dont like ham!" decleared the beautiful actrobat princess, kicking her groeling attendents in the teeth. She flew from the tent fuming, all the rest were bleeding and swearing. The blood red eyes rolled madly in the sockets of the dark horses,matching the ashes from vigerette littering the dirt like a disease, strings of saliva hanging suspended from the choking bit and frothing mouths. They paw the ground in their anticipation, being released from their stoney chamber, cramping muscles, cramping life. "Abra Cadabra!" yelled the magician, his hat eskew while doting upon the tender boy disipearing in his confusing, and revenge for the maraculous murder of his mother. "We dont know what goes on in there," says the man at the gate, but he takes your money anyway. The disfigured wretches glower from behind their fetters and physical digression, greatful for their putrid gruel and lack of theirst for anthing but their straw covered cages where they curl around their malicous blood thirsty gods. The gods who breed filth and deformity from the irridescent, perfect brine. The count and the dancer do dine, over plates of potatoes and uncontrolable desire, that creates the noose of his excecution. Patients has no purpose creating a sweaty scene of tears and seamen ending in sly satisfaction and the decapitation of the malnurished dinner guest. The freaks errected the gallows, a cotton candy machine as the gibbet, and they lynched the count until he dangled dead. The children begged to exit the blaphamous bonanza, but were buried alive with the rest who had been complaining about the stench and the parasites sucking them dry. As they dew drops they do depart to the comming of day arranging their props and fetish for the next show.

Date:	2005-02-02 19:10
Subject:	sling shot baby
Security:	Public
Mood:	high
Music:	Sliver, Nirvana

Yea so one day mamma took me to the park. I think i was three. Yes i must have been three. Im seven now. I can do stuff now that i couldnt do when i was three. I can tie my shoes now, and read to. So when i was three my mama took me to the park. She took me to the park and took off my socks and shoes. Mama says its good to feel the earth under your feet. So she took off my socks and i ran free. I crashed through the autum leaves giggling all the way. I though im gonna go pick some flowers for mama. At least thats what i think i thought. So i went to go get mama some flowers, and saw some pretty purple flowers from not too far away. I stopped right in front of the flowers, and began to pick some for mama. Than a snakesie came out of the grass and stung me right on my foot. I ran away and the snake ran away. I was running so fast that i tripped and fell. I had blood all over me, and all over the new dress mama had baught me. I starting crying, and saw mama running towards me. Than when she came over to me she started crying. Than when she saw the new dress mama had baught me covered in blood she stopped crying. She got mad. She started shaking me and shaking me and shaking me back and forth. I tryed to say no mama stop, but i couldnt talk. But than mama stopped. She stopped and looked at me and picked me up and braught me home. She braught me home and put me to bed. When i was in bed my head hurt. My head hurt the next day to and the day after that. But mama took care of me and now i am all better.

Date:	2005-01-31 21:08
Subject:	rancid puffy balloons of stinging salt
Security:	Public
Mood:	chipper
Music:	Nirvana, Help me Im hungry

Bloodymuffins818: boo
Auto response from krazykeith4458: fuck
ehhhhh fine fiiiiiiiiiiiine dont come back cuz if you do i will be waiting here with a slingblade and when you come back i will cut your head off
with the slingblade im singing in the rain im siiiiiiinging in the rainwhat a wonderful feeling im happy again! except i will be singing in your blood that will be spraying everywhereblack juglar blood and i'll fill the cheap wine glasses with the black jugular blood and drink them over your boiled head and some turnips than your peices of face will be digesting in my intestines than i will shit the pieces of your digested face into my toilette and down the pipes you will go where you will join million of other shits and you can all become friends and have tea parties and shoot the shit AHAHAHA


The deers like to eat salt. They like to eat salt more than they like doing anything else in the whole entire world. They lick the blocks of salt because its something they do. The humans give them the blocks of salt they just adore licking. The deers trust the humans who provide them with the salt because its something they do. But the humans are sinister and take advantage of the trust the deers have so unwisely bestowed upon them. They hate the deer because the deer pose a great threat to them. The deer doesnt know it, but the deer is a threat to the humans society. The humans placed the blocks of salt on the metal table. The metal table shook with remorse as the humans injected Arsenic syringe after syringe into the blocks of salt. Than they lifted the blocks of salt, and replaced them will the old molested blocks of salt. The salt was ready and the human was glad. The human cleaned the metal table and threw away all the syringes. The next day the deer were licking the blocks of salt because that is what they do. than the baby deers began to die. the mama deer began to die. and the papa deer began to die. All the deer were dead. The man went to the place where the salt stood and the bodies of the deer lay. He took the bodies to his house and skinned the deer, throwing their meat into the near by stream. The metal table was covered in blood. Then he made some scarves, hats, and jackets out of the deer. and the deer were dead. But they didnt care they were dead. They just loved being alive. they dont even know they are dead. they have been oblivious ever since their little light went out and their body decaying admist the filthy stream. Theres chemicals in those streams. That the humans from the companys above put there. It wasnt an accidnt. They did it on purpose. They did it on purpose because it would allow them to prosper. Now fish and birds die in the filthy rivers, suffocating on runaway birthday balloons. Balloons made in a factory. People work there. Some people show up for the job. They take one look and their eyeballs pop all over the millions and millions of resumes until the whole world was blind. And there was no more time.

Date:	2004-04-25 16:23
Subject:	I had a concussion
Security:	Public
Mood:	bored
Music:	Bob Marley

I dont even know
what you just said
cant read or write
or get anything right
with my head so black
nausia and confusion takes over
dont remember what you just said
or what i said
whichever is easier for a greiving mind
take ether, float around on couches
but please dont cheak for a pulse
because the dead are parasites
sucking and sucking
until their stomachs are torn and bloated
a lack of connection
in a world full of discourdance
how the hell do we live
without the drugs
that make us feel so good
and sometimes your even allowed to feel alive
if you've been a good boy
been a good girl
you can feel alive
and we can play
ashes ashes we all fall down
were all plants eating off one another
covered and growing in piss and shit
oh what a reward
for something so beutiful
im a writer not a fighter
with a pen not a sward
but salt still stings
salt smelling like home
home where a broken heart lives
i miss you so much it makes me sick
hear me groan
take a sip
than we can all sing
or thats what i heard
but the expectant is never fully expected
say that again please
im sorry im not understanding
sure call me a fool
i wish i could find a word for you
but not with my head so sore
smash the fly on the wall
wait thats my head
they tell me just to go to bed
and choke on your own vomit
while your dreaming
of oranges and cherry pies
all of a sudden you choke and die
bleeding behind your eyes
so clear and blue
a labotomy would feel so fucking good
cuz i dont want to hate my mommy anymore
but i could go critically insane listening to you anyway
please god dont let me regress
addicted to riddlin and pain killers
that make me feel numb
than maybe you wont bother me
the grids on the windows make me trip
sit up and do something
have some pretty hangover comeover
pull the plug
and ill give you everything i love
if you would just save me
and i love the way
you just cant smile
and now im lost
in this contemporary concussion
thought i was found
but im only lost again

Date:	2004-04-11 21:10
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	nostalgic
Music:	bob marley

its fun making ammends

¤Personal

Name: Chelsea Katherine Watt
Nick names: Chels, Cheech, and anything that has to do with being a midgit
Birthday- 8/18/87
Eye Color: blue
Hair Color: i dont even know anymore
Faults: addictions, self conciousness
¤ Are you

Athletic? hahaha! does theater count as a sport?
Shy? depends on who im around
Insecure?: maybe......
Nice? ?
A good Friend? try to be
Bi? dont think so
Homosexual? no
Affectionate with Friends? depends who
Racist? only against racists
Open Minded:? yep
Atheist? yes
Afraid of Heights: yea
A good Student: sometimes
A Fellon: ummmmm..... what exactly counts as a fellon?
A Smoker: caugh caugh caugh hack caugh
Hopeless Romantic: yes
Dreamer: all i do


¤Favorites

Colors: black, blue, red
Food: fish and chips
Drink: tea or pepsi
Show: law and order, stand up commedy
Movie: anything by Quintin Tarantino
Book: Halo: anything by Kurt Vonnegut
Shoe Brand: sandles
Real World Season: i hate them all
Sport: soccer, swimming
Word: coushy
Actor: johnney depp in pirates of the carrabean
Actress:
Band: blind melon, beatles, bob marley, nirvana, pearl jam....
Number: 18
Season: summer
Weather: 70's sunny or warm and rainy
Insturment you play..if any: piano, bass
Out of Country Friend: Rebecca, Katarina, Danella, Andre, Big Johnney, Big Sexy, spider, Kanton and everyone ive missed
Out of State Friend: Pete
Out of Town Friend: ummmm
Intown Friend: Molly, kendal, patty, doug andy kristin mike pete
Ex-friend: ummmmm
Thing to do: theater listen to music and write
Car: my legs
¤Choose

Pepsi/Coke: pepsi
Reading/Writting: writing
Shakespeare/Twain: Shakespeare
Pop/Rock: Rock
Friends/Foes: Friends
Love/Lust: Love
Happy Bunny/ Dog of Glee: ummm... bunny?
Anarchy/ Peace: Peace
Sky Dive/ Hang glide: sky diveRain/Sun: rain i guess
Snow/ Rain: rain rain rain
Innocent/Evil: depends on your morals
Day/ Night: night
Cd/Cassette: cassette
VHS/DVD: VHS
Ocean/Land: ocean
Labels/No labels (for people): try to stay away
Hello Kitty/Goodbye Kitty: no idea

Date:	2004-02-22 13:37
Subject:	everybody feel alright
Security:	Public
Mood:	jubilant
Music:	bob marley!

hey guys! whats up! last day of vacation and that kinda sucks but eh oh well. A special hello to kristen because i love her so much.

Date:	2004-01-14 18:52
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	depressed
Music:	no rain- blind melon

Life is so lonely. No one here really understands me.

Date:	2003-11-18 21:34
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	annoyed
Music:	mexican sea food- Nirvana

I hate all this high school drama shit. Its so stupid. I dont mean taming of the shrew because everyone should go see it but i mean people over reacting about every little thing and having to make a big deal about everything. Just get over it. At least if your miserable you know someone else is happier.


Ass holes suck

Date:	2003-11-09 13:41
Subject:	She loved him so much it made her sick
Security:	Public
Mood:	depressed
Music:	You know your right- errie voices of Kurt from the grave

I will never bother you
I will never promise to
I will never follow you
I will never bother you
Never speak a word again
I will crawl away for good
I won't move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
Always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to fail
PAIN
You know you're right
I'm so warm and calm inside
I no longer have to hide
There's talk about someone else
Sterling silver begins to melt
Nothing really bothers her
She just wants to love herself
I won't move away from here
You won't be afraid of fear
No thought was put into this
Always knew it would come to this
Things have never been so swell
I have never failed to fail
PAIN
You know you're right

Date:	2003-11-01 19:44
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	anxious
Music:	the whole enima cd from tool

Halloween is awsome! Your never to old to go trick or treating i swear. I wish i could have gone to salam though. That would have been really really cool. I just realiZed that alot of people wont be able to read this journal because my livejournal name is different from my screen name. Oh well. i guess that makes it more of a journal. I dont think the deffinition of a journal includes being brodcasted online. i wish there was something to do in this dumb town. oh well collage in a year in a half. I dont know if i will last that long but we shall all see.

Date:	2003-10-30 23:58
Subject:	i hate you all
Security:	Public
Mood:	pissed off
Music:	mad world, Donnie Darko soundtrack

im so happy right now i could fucking burst. No no not really at all i want to kill everyone. i hate you all. You can all burn in hell. no i am not kidding you can all go kill youselves and burn in hell you miserable sons of bitches. i dont like being fucking ignored. Why do people feel like they have to make other people feel like shit? i dont know maybe because they hate thier own miserable fucking lives so much that they feel its fun and entertaining to make me go insane. Thanks very much all of you. Now go fuck youselves.

Date:	2002-08-03 09:33
Subject:
Security:	Public
Mood:	melancholy
Music:	Possom kingdom- toddies

I finally got my computer back! it took so long for the guy to fix it it was so messed up but hopefully it will be better now. Im gonna miss you so much pete! and so is james and eric and everyone else, but its good your comming back. hopefully this fuckin puter wont die like it did before that would suck ass. Possom kingdom by the toddies is the best song ever! (well right now it is anyway)time to go to work!