The writings of Oddpoet

My broth­ers hear the crash and break the door down… Absurdly, I men­tally curse Home Depot and their cheap fuck­ing doors. So there I am with a belt around my neck and the entire drop ceil­ing strewed about the room. I fuck­ing hate failed sui­cide attempts. I mean what can you say, “Whoops?” It’s like get­ting caught by your future ex-wife with your sweat pants draped about your ankles wax­ing your car­rot to the Fredrick’s of Hol­ly­wood web site. That has hap­pened to you, right? Please say yes.

I briefly won­der how woman mas­tur­bate. Prob­a­bly with envi­ron­men­tally friendly solar pow­ered dil­dos. I hate Women.

So my older Bro says, “Dick­weed, stick with drink­ing your­self to death, suits your style.” Gotta love my Brother.

So I decide to go out­side, which is a feat in itself because I haven’t left my room in about three months. I find most peo­ple bor­ing — I really hate rub­bing elbows with the fuck­ers. I leave the belt around my neck; I fig­ure maybe I can pass it off as some kind of new sar­to­r­ial style.

I see the mail­man and I was going to tell him to stop deliv­er­ing me mail, I don’t open the fuck­ers– what’s the point. But, I fig­ured he worked for the Post Office and there­fore was in his own pri­vate hell.

So I make it to the over­pass, beneath me is the New Jer­sey Turn­pike. I read some­where; it was one of the most trav­eled roads in the US. I watched the social insects whiz by. I dig the sound. The World is full of songs; you just have to know how to listen.

I notice the inward curv­ing fence and it pisses me off. (I’m always pissed) I mean it’s not like I can’t get some C4 and blow a whole in the sucker.

I know they are try­ing to stop jumpers. Not because they care about human life, they don’t want you fuck­ing with traf­fic. I once saw a jumper splat­tered like sea gull shit on the asphalt. Peo­ple were get­ting out of their cars and kick­ing the dead fucker say­ing shit like:

“I got a mas­sage in 30 min­utes I’m late because of you dead shit”

“I have a two hour win­dow to cheat on my hus­band and fuck Ted the insur­ance man”

And my per­sonal favorite:

“Some­one scrape this dead fucker off the road”

So I mosey down to the local Dot Head store. What’s his name is at the counter. Cool dude but he has far too many con­so­nants in his name. Hence “What’s his name?” Now, he has this pet Ana­conda who he loves, so I ask him if he has any new pic­tures and his eyes light up and says: “I’ll be right back.” He runs to the back room and I run to chest freezer where­upon I start stuff­ing frozen Ice cream sand­wiches down by pants and in my pock­ets. I love steal­ing shit and I love Ice cream sandwiches.

So he comes back and starts show­ing me the pic­tures of his pet snake and in the mean­time my balls are freez­ing from the frozen Ice Cream sand­wiches stuffed in there and let’s face it, who needs frozen balls.

I give him a fake smile and I split and start eat­ing my plun­der. Oh yea, then I went home.