Gods grant me the Serendipity
to change the things I cannot have,
the Courage to have the things I do,
and the Wisdom to appreciate their differences.
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Humor. Show all posts
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Fictional Letter: Dear Son
Dear Son,
It's so easy, Son, why don't you just do it?! We have been telling you for years and you are still a total and complete failure for the sole reason that you didn't listen to us.
At any moment you could make the right decision, for a change, and finally be the good person you were meant to be. But for whatever reason you refuse to listen to us, your loving and benevelant parents who only want the best for you.
Yes: Everything you are and have ever been is a failure. But it's not too late! If only you just decide to change, then you can be OK. Because you are not OK the way you are now, that is so obvious we need not even say it. You are an unfortunate, criminal, self-pitying, parent-blaming, addict-bum, despite everything we have done to try and help you. We are totally innocent and you are completely guilty. We have never once made the slightest mistake, besides possibly loving you too much and spoiling you. Yes, that is the worst we did.
You were just a bad child since birth, for as long as we can remember. No matter what we did you would act out. Really you were a curse on our marriage. Everything was going wonderful until you were born, then you broke up our maarriage. We are sorry to say it, but it's the truth. You've been in the way since the begining and you have never stopped being a bother.
We are so sorry you choose to live the life of a homosexual drug addict bum. We wish you had chosen a better road, so we will not send you any money ever because we refuse to support you in your anal sex and spray paint inhailing.
We hope you grow up one day, Son. You are only getting uglier and stupider every day, so you'd better find a mate soon. Preferably an abusive one just like us.
Love,
Your Parents
P.S. Please get with it! Just become good! Do it! We want you to! You wont regret it! Make the right choice!
It's so easy, Son, why don't you just do it?! We have been telling you for years and you are still a total and complete failure for the sole reason that you didn't listen to us.
At any moment you could make the right decision, for a change, and finally be the good person you were meant to be. But for whatever reason you refuse to listen to us, your loving and benevelant parents who only want the best for you.
Yes: Everything you are and have ever been is a failure. But it's not too late! If only you just decide to change, then you can be OK. Because you are not OK the way you are now, that is so obvious we need not even say it. You are an unfortunate, criminal, self-pitying, parent-blaming, addict-bum, despite everything we have done to try and help you. We are totally innocent and you are completely guilty. We have never once made the slightest mistake, besides possibly loving you too much and spoiling you. Yes, that is the worst we did.
You were just a bad child since birth, for as long as we can remember. No matter what we did you would act out. Really you were a curse on our marriage. Everything was going wonderful until you were born, then you broke up our maarriage. We are sorry to say it, but it's the truth. You've been in the way since the begining and you have never stopped being a bother.
We are so sorry you choose to live the life of a homosexual drug addict bum. We wish you had chosen a better road, so we will not send you any money ever because we refuse to support you in your anal sex and spray paint inhailing.
We hope you grow up one day, Son. You are only getting uglier and stupider every day, so you'd better find a mate soon. Preferably an abusive one just like us.
Love,
Your Parents
P.S. Please get with it! Just become good! Do it! We want you to! You wont regret it! Make the right choice!
Friday, February 6, 2009
Poem: Nice Shot
A bird shit on my head yesterday,
I probably deserved it.
You know immediatly that
it is birdshit.
Not rain, not spit,
nor soda, nor piss.
It's bird shit
and it's in your hair.
Slowley lifting your hand
to touch your gooey hair,
fingers coming back white and green
with bird shit.
"Nice shot,"
I mutter cynically
to the sky,
as I wander off,
in search of toilet paper.
I probably deserved it.
You know immediatly that
it is birdshit.
Not rain, not spit,
nor soda, nor piss.
It's bird shit
and it's in your hair.
Slowley lifting your hand
to touch your gooey hair,
fingers coming back white and green
with bird shit.
"Nice shot,"
I mutter cynically
to the sky,
as I wander off,
in search of toilet paper.
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