I can talk.

I can talk. Can’t you? I doubt it. If you could then your lungs would have to work. But they don’t. I know. Don’t you worry about how I know. I am all knowing. You can’t know more than me. Even if you were all knowing I would know it plus one. So you see I’m cooler than you could ever possibly be. I am the definition of cool. Any other definition of cool sucks. I hate being cool. It sucks. Such a worthless thing to be. I like being myself. So I am not cool. But I am the definition of cool. Therefore coolness doesn’t exist. If it did your face would explode in a gewy mess. Yuck. That would be messy. And sticky. I don’t like messy sticky things. They taste bad. You know bad. That which is not me. I am not sticky or gewy. Therefore I rock. Rocking rocks so rockingly hard. Don’t you rockingly think so too? I know I do. ‘Cause it is true. I only speak truth. What emanates from my mouth is truth. You’ve been searching for it I assume. Well no you’ve found it. Now you can go kill yourself. Please go and do your business elsewhere. I don’t want feces on my cool shoes. Only cool shoes are cool. Unlike your face. Your face is not a pair of cool shoes. Maybe I should combine them. Awesomeness and fugliness. Combined they unmake reality. Wouldn’t that be sweet. Or not. Prolly not. But it could be a neat idea if I never thought about it. Or before I thought about it. It’s too late now. I thought about it. Dammit! That sucks. That idea rocked before I had it. Now it’s just stupid. Like pineapple. Why would anyone want pines on their apple. I prefer my apples pine free. Pines hurt when they prick your mouth. And then you start to bleed. And then you keep pricking yourself. You know, to make sure it wasn’t a freak accident. And then more and more freak holes keep opening on your face. Until you pass out from blood loss. Then it stops. ‘Cause everything is always good as new after a little rest.
Then you wake up and start floating. Floating towards the bright light. Soaring. Soaring high! Higher than you every got on acid. You know that time you poured Hydrofluoric acid down your shirt. That was a good idea. But someone pulled you away from the light and you woke up with heavy scarring on your chest. In the hospital. Chained to the bed. That hurt. Why did that jerk pull me back? And why did he try to tear out everything in my chest cavity. He must have been greedy. Greedy for extra organs. He already has 3 hearts 5 Livers and 80 kidneys. Why does he need more? He doesn’t. He’s just a jerk. You hear that jerk? That jerk is such a jerk.
Back to soaring. Soaring on high. Then high’s mother calls him to dinner and you have to stop soaring. Then you feel unloved and alone. And you climb under a car and start crying.
The sharp pain in your arm wakes you up from your nap. I hate being waken up with a sharp pain in my arm. Like when it falls off from lack of circulation. Or when a car severs it from your body. That hurts a lot more actually. A lot more. Ow. Wow. That was really painful. At least that can’t happen again. Now that I have no arms. Ah, life is so sweet to me.
Back to the light. Walk into the light. That leads to a burning feeling. The light is kind of hot. Kind of really hot. Really, really hot. This isn’t fun anymore. This is un-fun. Having your blood boiled out of you is just... ow. I can’t describe how mad this makes me. Who would go to the trouble to burn the blood out of my body. O, right jerks. I hate them so much. Them and you. I hate you. You suck. And blow. Like a crappy vacuum cleaner.
I’m dead now. This is boring. Kind of like not being alive. Pretty lame. Yea. Lame. That’s enough of that.
I decided that being dead was boring so I’m gonna stop now.

The pumpkin.

There is a pumpkin. He is a happy pumpkin. Won’t you shake his hand? He won’t bite. He’s orange, how could something orange be evil? It couldn’t that’s how. Pumpkins are a peaceful race of peace loving pacifists. They would never hurt you. Ever. Not they wouldn’t enjoy it. I’m sure anyone would enjoy killing you. I know I would. Except pumpkins. Pumpkins wouldn’t enjoy killing you, despite my previous claim to the contrary.
Did I mention that I recently came into a large sum of money? No it had nothing to do with pumpkins. What are you talking about? That’s ludicrous. Why would I take money from pumpkins? Just because I love money? Just because money is the only way for me to get an erection? Just because money gives false happiness to my sad bleak life? Well that’s not it. I found this money underneath the stairs. No, it wasn’t someone else’s. How do I know? Because it’s mine. Any looser who claims otherwise is a filthy liar. And a rapist. How do I know about the recent sting of rapes that haven’t been reported? Because I’m l33t. Don’t you wish you were?
There seems to be a dead body in my house. I wonder how that got there. Maybe you should dispose of this. What? No, I don’t know how it got here. No, I didn’t kill her. You did. That’s right you filthy murderer. That’s right, feel sorry for yourself bitch. Now clean up this mess before I kill you too.
No, that wasn’t a threat. No, that isn’t a knife in your skull. No, everything does not smell like urine. O, wait yes, yes it does. You lost control of your bladder. Yes, it is embarrassing. You should clean that up. Please don’t take a dump in your pants. I would have to burn this building to the ground if you do.
What officer? No, I don’t live here. Why would I live here? No, I haven’t seen anyone around in a while. Those are all my cars. No, it’s not weird around here. I’m crazy in case you haven’t noticed.
Racing lunatic sounds cool. Maybe I’ll be one of those. But I’m lazy, so I won’t. What would you do if you were god-like? Fight with other god-like beings. Good answer. I would hope so. Why? Well since you are writing this you’d think that you’d at least stay ‘til the end. What you’re not writing this? That’s weird. So then who are you. I am like you. You rape goats, fish, small children and snow. Poor snow. I feel bad sometimes. You know, for eating and defecting on it. But, O well. Those who were to fooling.
I think your doe died.