MONSTROUS

Tommy Walker

Made a Sale This Past Week

Another one and I can celebrate with a pint of ice cream if I like, which I don’t, not anymore. A java chip or some such used to be about the only thing I could think to buy with discretionary income, and eventually the cream started interfering with my ability to burp and I seriously feared if I didn’t stop knocking them back that I might die very soon. I didn’t set out tonight to tell you how important burping is, but it is. Not a laughing matter.

No pressure, whoever you are, but I’ve a lot of hopes pinned on you. You have a chance to discover me, for I remain for all intents undiscovered. Be forewarned, however, that I have a bass-ackwards way of showing my gratitude. Concurring that it is immoral to let a fool keep his money, if you came in by way of what you perceived to be a loud title and come away disappointed with a book that’s not so loud, you will have gotten what you deserved. You will have wasted all the time I have invested in rooting for you if you’re so careless a reader not to pick up on how quiet my title actually is, while superficially seeming loud.

I am going to try to bore you to death, but I hope you don’t bore easy. I will jism north, south, east and west and try to make you gag, try and make you cough the book up like a football in my enemy hands. But I hope you hold on to that football. Substantially the same person who lived Monstrous wrote it, with a twist, of course. Here I am at one point, writing about the person who lived it:

I used to carry myself as aloof, sending out vibes like I didn’t want anyone near me. At the same time I wanted desperately to be approached by someone who in turn wanted so badly to meet me that they would take an extraordinary leap, throwing caution to the winds in order to reach my side. Only the strongest person would dare try to crack my facade, just as only the strongest leap on my part could clear the yawning chasm which divided me from my peers and from which I’d been shrinking away, so I was holding out hope that someone stronger than myself would come along. A lightweight would take one look and think, “Screw it. I’ll talk about the weather with someone else”. Providing a hoop to jump with fire on the perimeter, daring you to make the jump but also rooting for you to do so. Like I was rotting away in prison and the key was outside my cell.

If only Monstrous were written in the nearly microscopic print script I was famous for. I didn’t want people to be able to read my writings unless they concentrated, and really wanted to read them.

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April 17, 2012 - Posted by | Monstrous | , , , ,

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