visitors may experience as well. But for now, I have to be content with whatever work I wish to place here myself.
Submit your own piece!
Email me with your origional works, and I will post them on my page.
(To be read with a horrible, twisted, drawling Southern accent)
There's always something going down 'round these parts.
Yup, weird things are happening. Weird things always happen here. I, for one, was born. My aunt once had a dog who swam in the Bay, then had deformed puppies. I knew a kid who could write with his feet. My dad worked at one of the power plants and brought us home a three-eyed fish. If that's not weird, I got lots more. Cause my old man was never around, I grew up outside my home, spending most of my time at the school, even after I dropped out. I don't think he knew I ever did. If he was still alive, I still don't think he'd notice that I never came home for supper. But, yeah, I stayed at the school, cleaning the crap from under them desks and the swears off of them stained walls, and I somehow bring in a pay that really is next to nothing, and live. I'd quit, but nothing's always worse, I say. Then again, weird stuff happens and I could do with a lot less of it.
Have you seen the kinda freaks we harbor here anymore? It like something out of B-Horror Hell. Geeze, I thought that style was dead and buried, but evidently the dead have risen and come to bug the shit out of us.
All that make-up and weird ass hair: what kinda chemicals do they use, cause its killing the last of their skin color. Walking around like they own us, or eachother, though who would want to own that white-trash is beyond me. They never went to my school: I'm sure I would remeber them hanging around midnights, drinking or even smoking, talking of poets and the many ways to disembowel your favorite friend. You know the type: the "I'd-be-a-Satanist-if-we-didn't-fuck-the-virgin" sorta people.
Yep, their only purpose in life is to punish sinners like me.
And they like it.
Its those Gothic bastards, I heard. You know, the creepy bastards who dress all in black, blow shit up and have a conversation with their God while their at it. They're some creepy cult, I know it. They probably sacrifice baby bunnies or something.
I heard that maybe they have a secret underground organization, and really the cult that you see is only the puppets to put on a show for all us schmucks, and now that that's gone, the real Gothics decided to come out of their closet. I also heard that they're really some sort of magical coven or something, and Gothics are into that, right? So punk kids by day, dirty crystal-waving freaks serving some four-armed-it-diety by night.
There's another one that said maybe they were government projects, or something. Anyone could guess what they'd be doing with that many people.
See, no one really knew how they came here. They just sorta popped up, quiet like, and suddenly you had congregation, and poetry meetings, and those twice-damned LARPs. I bet they brainwashed any one who messed with that. Never went there myself, but knew someone who did. Said their leader was okay for a guy, but pale as hell, distracted too. Maybe HE'S one of these cult-weirdo's who are walking around! I mean, hey, there are always freaks Downtown, and even the good parts, but these guys . . . some of them make me feel edgy. People know. It happens to them too.
I heard they sacrifice things and drink the blood. I heard they can turn into animals, and into smoke, and fly, and all that shit.
Fuck, I also heard that they were probably aliens, coming down finaly after years of study to slowly infultrate our society to create their own, and some day set Elvis up as their King.
The crap that people listen too.
Nope, I won't get into that gossip. There's weird enough things going around to put my two cents in, as if anyone would listen to me anyway. I just want to go on, night after night, like I have for the past fifty years, minding my own buisness, cleaning spray-paint off of toilets and principle-fucks-joeshmoe off of desks, and just hope those weirdos don't come my way. I'd give them what-for. Don't need that demon-worshiping, clove-smelling, black lipstick-wearing brats come and ruin a perfectly good nieghborhood.
Yup. Things is different now.
I'd leave them alone, though, as long as they kept to themselves, like I do. No one notices little old me, since I come in here at night, when no one's around, and clean the place for them. I stay safe. I keep my mouth shut, and they leave me alone. Cause I know what they are, little old me. No one else does, but I know. And I ain't telling. No one would believe me anyways, cause they'd rather believe those stories about cults and God and aliens-with-Elvis sorta shit cause everyone knows that's what it is: shit. Everyone's scared of those Gothics who walk around, cause they're different, and those poor people have a right to be--they is scarey people!! We don't need that kinda punk around anymore. But I get hurt if I step out . . . I get punished real bad. And they like it. So my mouth stays shut. . .
Ahh . . . I gotsa go. Clean out the old stake-thrower and all.
Fuck-damned vampires . . . why can't they leave a poor guy
@hotmail.com