the soundtrack…

it’s what i hear each and every day, from the moment that i wake up, until the moment that i fall asleep. 

it’s not quiet. it’s not ignorable. it’s not at all shy. it’s loud. it’s aggressive. it’s obnoxious to the core.

the message is certainly clear. it decimates boundaries. it draws lines in the sand. it offends to the deepest core.

the messenger, somewhat of a repugnant, bad santa. the thoughts of his mind and words of his mouth, both vile and vulgar. 

most of the time, i don’t want to hear the words, coming from his mouth, so i’ll stop him from speaking. 

i put my index finger up in the air, as if to, “sssshh him…,” and then i rip the words right out of his mouth and make them my own.

the first thing that i notice, is the bad taste, that they leave, in my mouth…pungent, metallic.

the next thing that i realize, is the power and intensity, that i feel, as the words roll off of my tongue.

i feel like a predator, a hunter, an aggressor. i want to dominate the conversation. i want to be heard.

i say his diatribe for him. the soundtrack of his life. the crazy, creepy, oozing, foul-mouthed, filth. so that, i don’t have to hear it coming from his lips.

i take his power. i steal his thunder. i don’t have to listen to his voice. i trade places with him, and he is helpless.

he’s left with nothing, but his vicious words. the verbal diarrhea, that spews forth, from his mouth. the soundtrack…

“elder abuse…”

“god damn girl’s…what are they good for? absolutely nothing…” 

“this place is dripping with estrogen…”

“you’ve never been seventy-six before…i’ve been forty-nine before…but, you’ve never been seventy-six before…”

“pheromones, did you just see what i saw? those were some hard core pheromones. he wants to fuck her. do you see that? he wants to give her the long, slow stroke…”

“am i going gay? i love watching love stories. does that make me gay…?”

“did you hear a boxer growl? he has really bad breath…someone needs to brush his teeth…”

“what are the chances that i could get a salad…?”

“there is no cure for stupid…”

“the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly, expecting a different result…”

“what did i tell you about men…?”

“men are dog’s…”

“boy’s are morons…”

“men only dance, to get into women’s pants…”

“i digress…”

“i know that you’re shocked…”

“i want an apple fritter…”

“i want a slurpee…”

 “so, does anyone know what we’re having for supper…?”

“she wants to do me…”

“she’s looking at my package…”

“how do you know if a woman is lying? her lips are moving…”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s