Yay- I’m back and I’m flappin’ free! I missed it last week so I hope this makes up for it. Go check out JJ at Purgatorian for details on how the Flash Fiction Project works. This one came out as another one sided conversation in the first person. . . I wonder if I’m setting a trend for myself? Nuh- I think I’ll just blame JJ!
Disease? I suppose you could call it that. . .
. . .but I prefer to like, see it as a way to like, make my life a little more interresstin. You know? I mean- just look at all this attention I’m gettin, man! I’m like, famous now, man! I mean- if I’d known how pop’lar I’d be, and how many people would wanna to talk to me, and how I’d be like, on the cover of magazines and all- I woulda said somethin like, YEARS ago, man! I’m like, a celebrity or somethin now! And all the letters I get! Man- they say I have like, a whole bag to myself now or somethin! Only they won’t let me read it all now, somethin about me not behavin myself or somethin. They only give me the mean ones- where people call me names and write some ugly shit down. But, you know, I was behaving- and I only like, bit that other chick ‘coz she spit in my food- and I couldn’t get my hands up to hit her ‘coz o’ the manny. . . the man-nick. . . the cuffs. And if I’d hit her- like in the stomach or something- then no-one woulda seen the blood and then I would still like, get my letters! But now I’m alone all the time now, so I can like, behave again. D’you like my hair like this? They cut it all off. You wanna know what’s funny, no-one’s asked me to sign anything yet- you know, like those auto-thingies that the famous stars sign? But I think that’s ‘coz people aren’t allowed to get close enough- and like, the cuffs, you know- they don’t like, allow me to reach out for the pens and papers and stuff to like, sign. . . you know? And they say I’ve even set some kinda record or somethin. Like in the Guinness Book or somethin, I’m not sure what it’s for though. The guards won’t tell me- and they won’t let me go on TV either. I think that’s unfair- I mean- it’s me people want to talk to, right? But my lawyer says I’ve got a chance to like, go to this nice little hotel place. . . or maybe he said hospital. . . I forget. And then I’ll get all my mail. And I can like, have visitors and stuff. He said they may even make a movie about me and then maybe I can like, star in it or somethin. . . then I’d be rich too- and famous! Wow. That’d be cool! And it’ll serve those sons o’ bitches right- show them I was right- they deserved to like, die. . . treatin me like they did. They shoulda bin nicer. Hey- then maybe they coulda bin famous with me!
Hey- will you visit me agin- when I go to the other place?
D’you want me to sign your little book for you- like the stars in Hollywood do?
Come on back soon- next month I’m gonna tell them about these other chicks that I like, buried at this other house, I only tol’ them about the five guys that they found at my house under the fireplace. I’ll tell you ’bout it too. . . then you can make some more notes there in your book. Hey- are you makin a movie too? Will I see you soon? You come on back y’hear!