Your stranded in a vaste deserted wastland. You've lived in your parent's basement all your life, never venturing out, learning, or experiecing anything in that time. For some reason, dad decided to pull a fast one & leave you on the side of nowhere, while he took the car & went looking for directions. Being the mental infant you are, you trusted him.
It's been days now, & you struggle to see anything out of your left eye or right ear, both due to infestations from your basement dwelling crawling up & building base camp in your sinuses. You're hungry... very hungry; thirsty too. You remember how you use to pick on the sores & wounds of your body after the rats in the basement had their infectious ways with you. Or maybe they were just trying to get to all the bugs building up in your brain.
Mommy always seemed to forget about feeding you in between holidays, so those scabs & puss seemed ever so succulent. Not to mention your collection of blood soaked bandaids covering ever single would. Not really bandaids, more like tourniquets or home made gauzes made from that extra oversided shirt your loving family would throw down to you in the winter time. Those things are seemingly seeping with their encrusted bodily juices. They would make quite a treat.
Then you have that infestation that has consumed & constructed it's abode to their likings. They make it tough to hear yourself breathe with your sinal pathways exposed like that. Your could do yourself two favors by digging your bloodied, nailless fingers(did I mention, you've been eating them all this time, toenails & all) through the opening in your face, to the gourmet morsels camping grounds, & scrape your way to dinner. It's pretty painful, & the though of it isn't much better, but your dying, & need some nutrition.
Just as the thoughts playing around in what's left of your head, you hear something coming fast within range of your good near. You turn your head enough so that you can see who those footsteps belong to. Just as you about make it through the motion, a swift kick to your temple plants you right on your back. Then a couple big steps on your face. Another breaks your nose. That idiot is losing me my meal you think to yourself primitavely.
Then you catch a glimpse of light reflecting off your now fleshy face. The attacker before you looks vaguely familiar. The short hair, the bellowing gut, the black sunglasses you broke one time trying to naw on as a child. It seems very much like your father, but it couldn't be, could it? I mean look, that person is already walking away in the opposite direction. Daddy wouldn't beat me, spill my dinner, & leave as if he had another child in another family to come home to. As I pass into dreamland, the mysterious figure seems long gone.
Daddy was always rough on me, he wanted me to grow up strong & learn respect. I know daddy loves me, he just gets moody when he runs out of his juice. False memories implanted in your head by your subconsious to cover up your terrible childhood seem to soothe your pain for the time being.
Hours seem to pass. You compose yourself & exit the fantasy that is a happy reality. Upon sitting up, you notice all the shells & wings mixed in with the still dripping blood in the puddle beside you. What joy! You knew that was your father & that he could never abandon you. He's come to help his boy. By kicking your face in, it's made your meal tonight that much easier to gather. What a father. "I love you Dad, hurry back!", you shout into the open air around you. You seem to know he'll be back. You love your dad.
It's been days now, & you struggle to see anything out of your left eye or right ear, both due to infestations from your basement dwelling crawling up & building base camp in your sinuses. You're hungry... very hungry; thirsty too. You remember how you use to pick on the sores & wounds of your body after the rats in the basement had their infectious ways with you. Or maybe they were just trying to get to all the bugs building up in your brain.
Mommy always seemed to forget about feeding you in between holidays, so those scabs & puss seemed ever so succulent. Not to mention your collection of blood soaked bandaids covering ever single would. Not really bandaids, more like tourniquets or home made gauzes made from that extra oversided shirt your loving family would throw down to you in the winter time. Those things are seemingly seeping with their encrusted bodily juices. They would make quite a treat.
Then you have that infestation that has consumed & constructed it's abode to their likings. They make it tough to hear yourself breathe with your sinal pathways exposed like that. Your could do yourself two favors by digging your bloodied, nailless fingers(did I mention, you've been eating them all this time, toenails & all) through the opening in your face, to the gourmet morsels camping grounds, & scrape your way to dinner. It's pretty painful, & the though of it isn't much better, but your dying, & need some nutrition.
Just as the thoughts playing around in what's left of your head, you hear something coming fast within range of your good near. You turn your head enough so that you can see who those footsteps belong to. Just as you about make it through the motion, a swift kick to your temple plants you right on your back. Then a couple big steps on your face. Another breaks your nose. That idiot is losing me my meal you think to yourself primitavely.
Then you catch a glimpse of light reflecting off your now fleshy face. The attacker before you looks vaguely familiar. The short hair, the bellowing gut, the black sunglasses you broke one time trying to naw on as a child. It seems very much like your father, but it couldn't be, could it? I mean look, that person is already walking away in the opposite direction. Daddy wouldn't beat me, spill my dinner, & leave as if he had another child in another family to come home to. As I pass into dreamland, the mysterious figure seems long gone.
Daddy was always rough on me, he wanted me to grow up strong & learn respect. I know daddy loves me, he just gets moody when he runs out of his juice. False memories implanted in your head by your subconsious to cover up your terrible childhood seem to soothe your pain for the time being.
Hours seem to pass. You compose yourself & exit the fantasy that is a happy reality. Upon sitting up, you notice all the shells & wings mixed in with the still dripping blood in the puddle beside you. What joy! You knew that was your father & that he could never abandon you. He's come to help his boy. By kicking your face in, it's made your meal tonight that much easier to gather. What a father. "I love you Dad, hurry back!", you shout into the open air around you. You seem to know he'll be back. You love your dad.
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