It wasn't looking good at all the framed picture of Jesus had cuts all over it On the face In the hair On the hands joined in prayer And the eyes were crossed out deep and cut out
why would he do that? Why would a five year old do that to the gift he got from grandma? Was the child possessed? Oh, God! Was the child possessed by the devil?
They took him to church to find out and the priest asked him why did he cut the Jesus in the framed picture and the kid said, "I wanted a bike, not a stupid picture!"
"He is definitely possessed," said the priest "You'll have to bring him to church every Thursday and Sunday. And I will give you further instructions."
Grandma fainted mother broke down crying
Father got him a bike actually. But mother and grandma made sure it won't reach him. Because father left mother and went away to live a life of sin with another woman. All ties had to be cut with that sinner. The bike was donated to a foster home where the nuns pasted a picture of Jesus on the basket to protect the rider from accidents But the first kid who rode it fell off while climbing a slope and the bike slid across the asphalt leaving deep scratches into the face of Jesus
well there's plenty of cutesy names to call one's children but his was 'unlovable trash' He remembered it from the time he was in the crib They held him there for longer than most parents held their kids in cribs. Though only dad called him so because he constantly claimed he wasn't his
unlovable trash
he had the wrong skin tone was too pale with curly orange hair and freckles
but mom always pretended she didn't hear the words unlovable trash she would act as if they were never uttered
and growing up he thought unlovable trash was a good thing thought it was how you show love to your loved ones
"Mom, you’re unlovable trash."
she was so happy to hear it she burst into tears and went into the kitchen and uncorked a bottle of wine and drank it all by herself. What an unlovable trash she was
Unfortunately by the time he could pronounce the lovely words father was no longer in his life but father too was an unlovable trash
he could count the major events in his life on a mangled hand's fingers But this was one of them. The day she took him to church. So that's what girlfriends are for.
But he didn't like the church didn't like the songs didn't like the preacher and the preaching
the man spoke of hell. But he didn't know shit about hell. No baby, hell's not a place where you go, it's a place where you stay. Namely, a body and a mind that has no major passions no drive towards improvement no dreams no goals no desire to get out and connect with the world no love to share no stories to tell or disposition to listen no reasons to live or carry on
In other words, me, motherfucker. I am hell.
He broke up with his girlfriend the next day. Her crying didn't affect him
Some daughters love their fathers a bit too much and their mothers not enough
This father was a cop, the type that deals with the nasty cases and he often came home drunk. Alcohol did help, he said and drank some more on the couch and sometimes drank until he passed out
she was thirteen, his daughter and would constantly nag him with questions about work. He didn't wanna talk about work, about the gruesome details of it and all that, but edgy teenagers will be edgy teenagers She insisted and he kept drinking and eventually passed out on his side
She was excited took his gun from the holster and started studying it with passion turning it on all sides, smelling it, holding it close to the face and
BANG!
the bullet got her lower jaw it was a bloody mess and she was in pain and gagging on blood and shards of bone and teeth But...
to call for help right now would be wrong. The whole world would accuse daddy and he had no fault. And mommy would reopen the case and have no problem gaining custody of her Fuck! This was bad! This was so bad!
And it was getting worse, she felt it. Felt close to fainting. Father was still on the couch. Passed out drunk.
She had to take matters into her own hands. Shambled into the kitchen and grabbed the cutting board from the table and dipped a finger in her bloody mouth and wrote with it on the cutting board
MY FAULT DADDY INOCENT (with a single 'N')
She went outside holding the cutting board and knocked on the neighbor's door.
Not too many horizons when you live in a small home with small windows and thick blinders and only face the smoky ceiling as you sit sprawled on the bed, bottle in hand, more empty than full, cigarette between fingers, more ashes than light. Work starts only the day after tomorrow so there is nothing to do now just like there won't be much to do then
He's not alone in this, this young man He thinks now of past lovers and it's like God delivers a gift all of a sudden
There's a knock on the door he stands dizzy about to vomit and finds his way to the door opens
Well. Hell. It's been... What, a year already? The woman holds a child in her arms and tells him it's his. The same whore who ran away with the little money he had about a year ago, just after they've done it and got wasted on the same bed he rose from.
Thank you, God It's, you know, just what the hell I needed.
The day she realized she hated her brother was the day she went into his room
until then she loved him, everyone loved him He was the family's artist, the prodigy and he was damn good and had some career ahead of him
"A rare talent," the teachers said
And sure the teachers were right but they didn't know about the prodigy's secret stash of lewd drawings featuring his little sister and even his mother
they were skillfully laid across A4 pages divided in panels and some even had speech bubbles and what was written in those speech bubbles made her burst out of the cursed room and run into hers screaming "Sick fuck sick fuck sick fuck fuck!"
Daydreaming as a profession 