The Guy Writing this Blog.
Pretty Much puts down whatever comes to mind in rant-style format.
Thus, these are the rantings of GWT.
So I’ve got a concept I’ve wanted to work on for some time, but because of various things ranging from time to waning inspiration to a lack of talent in a certain field, it keeps getting halfway close to realization but then fall back in the pile of ideas.
Maybe someone reading this can make use of them or help me out. (more…)
Making up your bed is the worst thing you can do to yourself. Here’s why!
“Hello?”
“Hey. Hey man its…Man, you know who it is, you’ve got caller ID. I…oh my god man, I–”
“Whoa. You’re saying man too much. Something happen?”
“I…shit. Just shit…I did it. I really fucking did it.”
“Slow down. Did what?”
“She…she was talking too much man. Said those things and shit. So I…god, I–”
“I’m gonna say it again. Slow down. What are you talking about.”
“Its…I killed her man. I just turned around and killed her. Right in the head with a shovel. I just lost it.”
“You’re serious.”
“Come-fucking-Pletely.”
“Jesus Christ…”
“No. No, I’m not done. I realized what I did, right? I mean, holy shit, there’s blood everywhere, you can’t help but notice. It’s hard not to notice, what with the blood and the shovel and the…well, I mean, I noticed and I freaked out and…”
“…”
“…So anyway. I moved the body.”
“Where’d you move it?”
“Thats not important, dude.”
“Yes it is. You put it somewhere stupid, you get caught.”
“I tell you and you call the cops. Sorry, I trust you and all, but I killed the bitch. Not exactly smart to go broadcasting where you put the evidence.”
“You sound like you’re sobering up.”
“Far fucking from it. And like I said, it doesn’t matter. Not at all.”
“Hey, uh…I’ve been meaning to ask and all, but why are you whispering.”
“I’m whispering because…fuck, because she might hear me. Fuck, I mean…”
“Hold on.”
“What? What did I say?”
“She might hear me. She’s in bed next to me, sleeping. I mean–”
“Oh. Oh, that’s fucking gross man. You need help. I’m–”
“No, its not like that. I’m getting to that. I mean, I told you–”
“Tell me faster, you’re not making any goddamn sense. You drunk? I bet you imagined the whole thing.”
“NO! I mean, I’m not crazy! I’m sure I’m not! That…she ain’t human man.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I…I got rid of the body, right? But I came back. And she was there. Perfect, like, 100%.”
“What?”
“No blood. No scars. Nothing. Like she just came back whole. And…man, I thought I was insane. I was sure. But then I went to check and…”
“And?”
“The body…its…”
“…”
“… Its still there man. The body is still fucking there!”
Hey GWT! What's your favorite book store?
Why, its every bookstore, friend!
Bookstores are dangerous. For me, at least.
Its guaranteed: if its payday, I'm in a bookstore and I'm buying something.
My bookshelf has too many goddamn books right now because of this.
It's not an addiction though, I can stop any time I want.
G. W. T. / LetLifeLoose 