Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Well helooooo Dahlings!

I've returned once more. Some fresh mountain air in my lungs, got away from the city for a while. Got in touch with myself, you know? Pet some dogs.

Things are looking up! The weather is warm, I've got a new job, and I just wanna....


Theres a stage somewhere. A brick wall behind a barely elevated stage. One spotlight, a stool, a guy with a guitar. Our handsome narrator.

You've been writing songs for all the wrong reasons.
For reasons you're not at liberty to say.
It wasn't to get rich or famous or get laid.
Mainly you wrote those fucking songs to drive him away.

And when you go to bed at night you're a skeleton.
With visions in your head too big to see.
And the insides of your mouth inflate and try to suffocate you.
It's hard, it's hard, it's hard to fall asleep.

And you've been looking for an honest way out for too long,
Because suicide is not the key.
And you hate the taste of alcohol and medicine.
Well the answer, the answer, the answer is plain to see.

So come along, lets get murdered!
Lets go to sleep and never wake up!
Lets find a loop-hole out of this!

He stops playing, throws the guitar in disgust. It shatters against the wall.

And everyone fucking claps.



  1. From where you're standing, sure.

    I wish they weren't but they clap. Folks love a show.

  2. If Maurice needs to talk, The Mad Ventriloquist is still here.

  3. Yes, because being murdered is far more palatable than other methods. Don't get me wrong. Anyone looking for an easy way out should probably just go ahead and get it over with.

    Or they can just give up. You never have to worry about quitters. It's always the broken you have to worry about. Lots of sharp edges and such.

  4. I'm sure there are those who watch us, those who see this as simple entertainment. I'm also half convinced that He Himself is doing this in the name of something to do. Like some bored kid with an ant's nest and a magnifying glass.


  5. They clap because they're confused. They know no better than the routine they've been given.

    Please don't throw a guitar at me. I don't think I could stand it. Also, it would hurt.