JU Writers Club - response to Shovel's challenge
from 
JoeUser Forums
JoeUser Forums
I prefer profundity to profanity. There is no fucking joy in shallowness. But the depth of her ignorance was like a stick of dynamite in a bon-bon; dressed up but still deadly. I still can’t figure out why they want to lock me away when it was obvious any children she might bear would set our evolution back thousands of years.
We met at a time when I was completely vulnerable and completely broke. She thought buying me something to eat was a precursor to me being oblivious to her many and varied prejudices. Her grievances were both astounding and inane and her vocabulary had absolutely no variation. For God’s sake, she finished virtually every sentence with the non-sequitur ‘doncha know it’.
I tried really hard to resist the urge to ram my egg-covered tines through her dull, watered-down eyes. Aside from the fact that the place was full of witnesses, I was also very much enjoying my breakfast. She drank tea, sweetened by the contents of 8 sachets of sugar. She smoked incessantly, blowing bilious yellow smoke first over one shoulder then the other. If I hadn’t been so stupefyingly hungry, I would never have allowed her to waste any more of this worlds precious oxygen.
Her putrescence, her sheer stinking stupidity, was most certainly generational if not multi-generational. The only good thing about her life was the orgasm her father had in order to create her. I can’t imagine any situation or path of destiny that would lead her to actually doing any good on this earth, nothing at all.
I told her all this later. I gave her a chance to understand, to accept what I was doing. Of course, she screamed at first. She struggled against the ropes. But when I finally told her I loved her and all would be well, she showed the first signs of intelligence I’d seen her exhibit. She closed her eyes and wept. It was then I felt sorry for the pale, shallow bitch and finished her quick.
I mean, we all have bad habits, don’t we? Mine is I like killing people, particularly those of no worth. She was my thirteenth. And I always though thirteen was my lucky number. I guess I was wrong.
We met at a time when I was completely vulnerable and completely broke. She thought buying me something to eat was a precursor to me being oblivious to her many and varied prejudices. Her grievances were both astounding and inane and her vocabulary had absolutely no variation. For God’s sake, she finished virtually every sentence with the non-sequitur ‘doncha know it’.
I tried really hard to resist the urge to ram my egg-covered tines through her dull, watered-down eyes. Aside from the fact that the place was full of witnesses, I was also very much enjoying my breakfast. She drank tea, sweetened by the contents of 8 sachets of sugar. She smoked incessantly, blowing bilious yellow smoke first over one shoulder then the other. If I hadn’t been so stupefyingly hungry, I would never have allowed her to waste any more of this worlds precious oxygen.
Her putrescence, her sheer stinking stupidity, was most certainly generational if not multi-generational. The only good thing about her life was the orgasm her father had in order to create her. I can’t imagine any situation or path of destiny that would lead her to actually doing any good on this earth, nothing at all.
I told her all this later. I gave her a chance to understand, to accept what I was doing. Of course, she screamed at first. She struggled against the ropes. But when I finally told her I loved her and all would be well, she showed the first signs of intelligence I’d seen her exhibit. She closed her eyes and wept. It was then I felt sorry for the pale, shallow bitch and finished her quick.
I mean, we all have bad habits, don’t we? Mine is I like killing people, particularly those of no worth. She was my thirteenth. And I always though thirteen was my lucky number. I guess I was wrong.
