Liberating
George moved across the room as gallant as a pinkie in the air, and quite frankly there was nothing better to do than to punch him in the face. I creeped across the room. Yes, I was going to sucker punch him. Even though he proved to be of no real opposition, their was really nothing better than to get a clear shot. So whittling my way through the masses trying not to attract attention to myself, all I could do was imagine my pure glee at the site of George with his nose broken, screaming and crying like a little bitch with a skinned knee while kick...no...punting into his ribs as hard as I could, seeing oily skin covered in sweat and red.
Then comes the other high.
All the people would scream and swell about me saying "no stop!" till someone finally pulls me off or sends me back, maybe even jump in and hit me, and that would just be lovely. Nothing better than to be wrapped up in arms, trying to harmlessly take you while you flailing about, ramming fist and kicks into their soft sides. I couldn't wait.
Somebody yelled my name
Marla walked over and said
"hello"
kissing me on the cheek.
Could this bitch not see I needed to get this done? Was she that vapid?
If I could I would hit her in the face when I'm on the run.
I politely told her
"I'll be right back"
and making it through the jungle of flesh, to get to George, and their he stood so fucking unaware of anything and everything like some fucking idiot sheep ready to get poked in the ass by some lonesome farmer.
Now I know how them fucking lions felt on the nature channel. Man do they know how to have fun.
I then thought of the possibility of having to deal with back lash. No, not people, fuck them quite frankly, but my own conscious. I thought of how I would think of myself for beating the living shit out of this pathetic asshole who only had the ability to regurgitate dumb statistics like some fucking puppet.
No, I thought
there is only one way.
My fist made a wet cracking sound against his nose as he dropped and yelled like he was being murdered, it sounded like a steak being slammed onto a table and then having some unknown bone broken inside. It was wonderful. He seemed to have decided to slide down the wall instead of falling on the floor like I thought would happen so I decided to just kick and kick with the point of my shoe into soft stomach.
Nobody jumped in, I seemed possessed I think, or sometimes when people see such brutality, they must think
"There has to be a reason"
so I started to kick and kick, happy as hell on two parts.
One, this was fun.
Two, I never felt one ounce of guilt for doing it, it was actually quite relieving.
As some pasty ass friend tried to pull me off, I got an elbow in, some heads, and punched some.
I did slam Marla in the face with my boot.
Yay.
My nails had cut the palm of my hand from the impact.
Hands shaking I grabbed a bottle of Vodka and finished it by the time I got to my doorstep. I laughed, jerked off, and went to sleep.
Liberating.
Fucking Liberating.
George moved across the room as gallant as a pinkie in the air, and quite frankly there was nothing better to do than to punch him in the face. I creeped across the room. Yes, I was going to sucker punch him. Even though he proved to be of no real opposition, their was really nothing better than to get a clear shot. So whittling my way through the masses trying not to attract attention to myself, all I could do was imagine my pure glee at the site of George with his nose broken, screaming and crying like a little bitch with a skinned knee while kick...no...punting into his ribs as hard as I could, seeing oily skin covered in sweat and red.
Then comes the other high.
All the people would scream and swell about me saying "no stop!" till someone finally pulls me off or sends me back, maybe even jump in and hit me, and that would just be lovely. Nothing better than to be wrapped up in arms, trying to harmlessly take you while you flailing about, ramming fist and kicks into their soft sides. I couldn't wait.
Somebody yelled my name
Marla walked over and said
"hello"
kissing me on the cheek.
Could this bitch not see I needed to get this done? Was she that vapid?
If I could I would hit her in the face when I'm on the run.
I politely told her
"I'll be right back"
and making it through the jungle of flesh, to get to George, and their he stood so fucking unaware of anything and everything like some fucking idiot sheep ready to get poked in the ass by some lonesome farmer.
Now I know how them fucking lions felt on the nature channel. Man do they know how to have fun.
I then thought of the possibility of having to deal with back lash. No, not people, fuck them quite frankly, but my own conscious. I thought of how I would think of myself for beating the living shit out of this pathetic asshole who only had the ability to regurgitate dumb statistics like some fucking puppet.
No, I thought
there is only one way.
My fist made a wet cracking sound against his nose as he dropped and yelled like he was being murdered, it sounded like a steak being slammed onto a table and then having some unknown bone broken inside. It was wonderful. He seemed to have decided to slide down the wall instead of falling on the floor like I thought would happen so I decided to just kick and kick with the point of my shoe into soft stomach.
Nobody jumped in, I seemed possessed I think, or sometimes when people see such brutality, they must think
"There has to be a reason"
so I started to kick and kick, happy as hell on two parts.
One, this was fun.
Two, I never felt one ounce of guilt for doing it, it was actually quite relieving.
As some pasty ass friend tried to pull me off, I got an elbow in, some heads, and punched some.
I did slam Marla in the face with my boot.
Yay.
My nails had cut the palm of my hand from the impact.
Hands shaking I grabbed a bottle of Vodka and finished it by the time I got to my doorstep. I laughed, jerked off, and went to sleep.
Liberating.
Fucking Liberating.
x