Saturday, May 21, 2011

The Warehouse

Fate will go about it's business much like a mailman in the early hours of the morning. You never see the mailman, but you see his work. Day in and day out they'll put in your bills, your expenses for living your privileged existence, in your mailbox without a hitch. Sometimes you'll find the mailman staring at your children as he reflects the early morning sun off his knife.
These things happen, but they're rare.


Matthew rolled out his bag of coke on the bathroom sink. He looked in his pocket for something to cut it into lines with. Zack, his cohort, was babbling about shit Matthew didn't care about and could only half hear anyway.

"Hey Matthew man" Zack mumbled nervously, rubbing his nose "That new intern, Molly, she totally wants to fuck you man"

The way Zack punctuated every thought with "Man" pissed Matthew off. He found a card in his blazer pocket; too thin an flimsy to be a credit card, but just thick enough to be used as a tool. It felt laminated, but it was the size of a business card.


The building Matthew was standing in front of was too big to be mistaken for anything else, but the dockside darkness shrouded it, concealed it, made it look almost church like. He read about a building like this a long time ago. His then law professor gave out files for on a case in which he was a prosecutor. He told the class that a man had abducted two children, took them to a warehouse like this, then tied weights to their legs and drowned them alive in the bay. The man said he was drawn to this building.

Matthew had no idea why he was here or why he was opening the door.

The one room was large, larger then what the outside had appeared and there was practically nothing in it. A pallet truck lay, clearly unused for some time, to the side. Straight ahead of Matthew, at the back of the warehouse, was a freight elevator: the only thing lit in the entire warehouse.


Matthew rolled out his bag of coke on the bathroom sink. Zack had brought a friend, Markus. Oh fucking great Matthew thought to himself, annoyed I have to share with two cocksuckers today

Matthew brought an even bigger amount of coke the the next day. His dealer was having a party, and even though Matthew wasn't one to party with his nigger dealer he decided to stay and party anyway. He had a really great time, so great a time that some cunt whore got her jaw broken. I don't even think she could see out of that swollen face I gave her by the time she got to the hospital Matthew smiled to himself. Sporting an erection every time he thought about her scream.


When Matthew got back to the freight elevator, the mailman with the permanently bloodstained hands was being awfully more vocal then usual.

"You sure you wanna do this, Matthew?"  the mail man turned to Matthew and smiled. Matthew never noticed the mailman didn't have eyes. Just sockets.

"I don't remember asking you, fucko" Matthew spat back.

"Just making sure" grinned the mail man.

"I'm here, aren't I?" Matthew said, getting impatient.

The mailman rose his bloodstained hand and hovered it over all of the elevators buttons, all representing a different level of the warehouses basement, all flickered out besides the very last one. All six of them representing a floor where Matthew experienced pleasure he couldn't ever imagine. A pleasure he could only experience once and never come back to again. A pleasure only getting more vivid then the last. A pleasure that made real life seem less real.
The mailman told him the rules.
Once he had left one level, he was only to go to the level below it.

Matthew was on the last level.


Zack rolled out his bag of coke on the bathroom sink. He looked in his pocket for something to cut it into lines with. Markus, his cohort, was babbling about shit Zack couldn't really comprehend. This bag was way less then he was used to.

"Hey, wheres Matthew?" Markus asked fidgeting with an pen he had on hand

"I told you man" Zack pulled out a card from his blazer pocket; too thin an flimsy to be a credit card, but just thick enough to be used as a tool. It felt laminated, but it was the size of a business card. "He quit to become a mailman" Zack laughed, "I don't get it, Matthew was a really killer attorney, man, but he just didn't show up for work a couple weeks back." Zack went back to cutting lines with the card "Last I heard he was a fucking mailman"

"Fucking bozo" Markus said. Snorting a line. "Hey, whatever happened that intern... whats. whats her name?"

"Molly" Zack replied, rubbing his nose.

"Yeah, does she get the spot? I mean Matthew's spot?"

"No" Zack let out a laugh a little too loud. "No, dumb bitch went missing" Cutting a sad line, Zack began to notice that this wasn't one of his business cards. The Warehouse it read. Then an address.

"What are you looking at?" Markus asked, only half interested.

Love and Kisses,
Big Mike.

Friday, May 20, 2011

I keep hearing the world is going to end Saturday, and you know what the only reason that makes me sad is because the last thing I fucked was a well oiled rubber tube. I have done little to no research on this newly found phenomenon of the end of days being uh...tomorrow. But thanks to my 5 min on "Yahoo answers" via "Google" search I've been told it's a bunch of religious fanaticals doing there whole afraid of everything thing. Then there was the CDC, yes Center for Disease Control had an interesting card I didn’t expect any govt. employee to throw out there. Zombie apocalypse

Hide your kids hide your wife cuz they eatin everybody up in here


p.s.I used the last of my milk on my first bowl of cereal and promptly forgot when I went back for seconds, this has been an interesting breakfast.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Hey Pollack! Take this!

A morning of sobriety and boredom brought about this little number.

Make sure you click the option to full size it. I was going to put it on this site too, but for some reason the server rejected it. So instead, your instant gratification shall be stroked with this.

Hehe, let us clap our hands and throw pennies at the poor!

~Xavier R.

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Feast on the Flesh

The world always seems to be ending, no matter the time period. Just check out some jazz and puff on a cigar. Thats what I do. Shit, I need some bourbon. A tumbler collection would be nice, as well.

Alas, curmudgeons aplenty, yet another splash in the power struggle pool. No one to have so much power involving financials until of their own, I bet? Go figure. Stop eating your own country, you pigs.

But alas, evil doer or not, nothing can every be done if his own government plots against him constantly. What a shame. Blaming everything on him, yet taking away credit when it's due. For fuck sake, stop being so weak minded and blame who is at fault for letting so much happen in the first place. Yourself.

You may think you can't do much, as but a single grain of sand on such a large beach. However with no sand at all, a beach just isn't a beach. Think about it.

Or don't.

~Xavier R.

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

This is who we are. This is what we do.

It spins. Your life. It is a wheel, with many spokes. It isn't over yet, so calm the fuck down. Everything will be alright. Or it wont.

Do you remember that time when the oversensitive fool couldn't take a joke, and in return ended up causing damage that was irrepressibly strong and could never be undone? Well they won't understand. It is a shame. They have no idea how their words have caused you to not forgive them, in turn making the original matter even worse.

Fuck me? No cunt, fuck you. One day I will be far away. Sure I could call. But I wont. And it is your fault. God damn it I love you so much for making me into a strong willed person. But god damn it do I hate you for the decades of coddling. I won't be a sociopath, as could be expected, with our blood. But understand that the mind, and the spirit, they are just muscles as the rest of the body contains.

You blame my attitude on you know who? My god you are so, so fucking wrong. I am worse then him. If anything, I poison him. If anything, I poisoned him in the first place. This angriness I feel? This darkness? The fantasies I escape to? They come from you. They come from you. The weird things I'm capable of? They also come from you. Thank you, by the way, for the latter, because sometimes I feel like a superhero.

I am aware of the fact that I am young. I know I don't always know the absolute truth. However something I have learned from you that you obviously did not learn your time around, as loving as you tried to be.

Pain caused by your offspring will come. I will embrace it as nature, instead of a foreign enemy. They will return to me, occasionally, as is nature, and one day I will die with the FIRST and ONLY women I marry and all will be well.

Thank you from keeping my mind from murder. Well done. I'm all sorts of unusual. But I aint crazy.
But fuck you for keeping me a coward and weak for so long. Just keep your distance. And one day I will beg for forgiveness, for my youthful rebellion made me act out in all sorts of ways.

However you are still relatively young. Maybe this pain is something you need to realize exists. You are going to be a whatchyamacallit, after all, with the brain and what not. Take the gift that you gave me and use it, instead if blaming everything else.

I love you, you stupid fucking cunt.

~Xavier R.