swine flu humiliation

 i have to go to the hospital tomorrow to get my knee gandered at AGAIN by an m.d. that will refer me to a specialist and give me another extension of my off work order.
  my wife will drive me. it hurts to step on the brakes and i must admit to using other cars to stop my momentum in the past.
  my wife insists we will wear those blue masks when we enter the hospital to avoid getting caught up in the beginning of the apocalypse. she’d rather stick around for the drama in the middle..or the end.
  my one concern about going into the hospital is wearing the blue mask. i might be quarantined or simply executed on the spot.
  i’ve been using a cane, but now both knee’s are going. i have a walker in the garage that i threaten to give to certain old-timers in a.a.
 criminy. i might have to use it myself, or allow my wife to fetch a wheelchair, and push me in with my blue mask indicating that the swine flu has incapacitated me to the point of non-ambulation.
  my doctor is hesitant to prescribe pain medication to me. he thinks i’m some kind of drug addict. heh
 he also thinks i might be faking this whole thing so i dont have to go to work, and can sit home and drink wine. heh

Its alright

 excuse the ‘all about me” context. but its alright.
my brother is “out there”.
my mother is broken up
|and this was never her problem]
these fucking things
this all about “what about that?”
he has prostate cancer and he doesnt deserve it.
of all the mixed up crap
it should be
my other brother
criminy. its all right.

i’m sorry<

 but you were in a movie
that was about drunks
that was in la
your sponsor was a long tak=lker
a nine minute speaker meeting
the most imprtant person in the room
the most i,mportant
personality
in the
room

madd dog hooker (hell 3)

  all you had to do was buy her a short dog, a shorty of 20/20.
  its a fortified wine. that means that alcohol had been added to it.
she was 53 years old, and would take it up the ass.
all i wanted her to do was get the morphine up into my butthole. past the anus. do not collect money. here are pills. get some up my ass. get some up yours. some somwe lets do some butthole drugs.
 she crouched over me
  “does it hurt?”
  bitch had to jam the syringe in my bunghole 5 times to get 10 mls in there. i could feel it stop, then slide on in.
 i feel another confession coming on,

hell 4 (i’ll get back to 3)

i demand a purpose. i will invent facts to support the fact that i am here for a purpose, i am not a series of chemical reactions that simply exists to reproduce. maybe fruit flies fit that description, but i’m gonna need a prescription if it turns out i was not created for some divine purpose.
 all the climate and storms and eve eating that apple what is the heart of hearts of what god wants me to do he is here to save me he created me..a sinner so that he might ave my soul thank you jesus. where would i be if you hadnt created me and then saved me. thank you jesus.
 someone show me the best window to jump out of.
i dont waant to wake up alive, covered in smegma.

hell 2

  it was a grey haired bar. all the cocktail waitresses should have had grey hair. they had become a bit long in the tooth for the profession, but they had a place at the grey haired bar.
  economics and sports were discussed over bourbon and beer. wine flowed from little bottles and breathed the air at the grey haired bar.
  confession had left a bitter taste in my mouth. i had really expected to feel better afterward, but i guess i should not have confessed my bitter feelings about religion and god in general.
  the bartenders name was Vicky. she had back problems and a prescription for vicodin.  i ordered a rusty nail and two vicodin.
  “I’m out of vicodin” she said. “i have these little morphine pills. 15 milligram”.
  i dont know anything about morphine.
  “gimmee two.”
   she gave me a handful.
   “no charge. i don’t like them.”
   i wrapped them in a napkin and stuffed them in my pocket.
   i like my rusty nails light on Drambuie but i didn’t complain when Vickie put too much in the first one. she must have remembered on the next three. they were great.
  i was on the Internet soon enough, looking at morphine pills. conventional wisdom had me squirting powdered pills mixed with water up my ass. I’m talking way up my ass.
  ‘PAST THE ANUS.”

hell

“torment” he said.
“you will be tormented for eternity.”
  i was astounded. “god has nothing better to do than torture me for eternity? what about juvenile diabetes?”
  his face got dark with anger “GET SERIOUS”.
  “I AM SERIOUS. MY WIFE WORKS WITH SICK CHILDREN WHO WON’T SEE THEIR SIXTEENTH BIRTHDAY!  what kind of god is that?”