I got drunk once and pissed in a litter box. It wasn't ready for me, and I wonder how other cat products might fare against me.
I wanna set the record straight. Back to zero. Maybe so straight it's a little gay. I want to rip out one of my teethand put it in a salmon's mouth. Would he know what it's like to be higher on the food chain? To be a mammal?
One time my manager told me to clean up the feces in Aisle 10. "Force yourself to do it. It'll be over before it starts." But I couldn't put it in one of the store's trash cans. So I forced the manager's car trunk open.
I want pain to give me magical powers. But I don't want to hurt myself, and I don't want to play Magic: the Gathering.
I want to be rich and dress poorly. I want to get in an alley fist-fight with a priest. I want to backstroke in my own blood.
Oh, but it's all so clean. It all must happen clean, and crisp. The grit and twistedness of it all is for cinematic purposes only. But I want to feel it. With no price. I want a free ride.
Go ahead and punch me in the face. I like it. Nothing feel better than blood running down my chin. While I'm laughing.
I want to turn into a cyborg. And not that slick Hollywood Universal Soldier Robocop shit. I want rusty bits of metal to stick out my spine like swords, and I want live wires sputtering about, with blood and sparks snowing all around me. I want a mouth like a bear trap. I want to spike my hair up with petroleum. I want hydrolic joints that spray antifreeze on the ground when I walk.
I want to chew on steel support structures.