Monday, July 24, 2006
The most horrible sound
It wasn't that long ago that I would stumble out of bed and use my slingshot and a container of paintballs to silence the horn of the ride for my illegal immigrant neighbors. See, I liked to sleep until, say 6:30, and those fuckers were blasting their horn at quarter till 6 waiting for the multitude to scramble out of the house on their way to whatever job they had this week. That horn caused me to peg the car with deadly accuracy because... that fucking horn!
Now I only wish I could hear that horn.
The sunlight streamed into my room, but I've never felt more in the dark in my entire life. I wept for hours because that sunlight caused so much joy that the songbirds were trilling their throats hoarse and I just hated them for it. I looked down and saw that my stereo had gone on again this morning because I never bothered to reset the alarm to keep it off.
A few minutes passed and I placed the bat back next to my bed; the stereo would turn on no more. What might have been comical and possibly theraputic a few weeks ago was yet another horrible reminder of my life. The smashed stereo now sat (or more to the point, lay) next to the used guitar I once bought (with amp) for $100 from an ex-girlfriend's sister. Of course that guitar had seen better days because now the neck was broken from the body and skewered the amp's sole speaker. The sole remaining string that hadn't broken ("D" I believe) basically held everything tight while the world was pulling it apart.
I trudged down the stairs and saw someone banging on my door. I gave them the finger and walked into the kitchen. I was most definitely not in the mood to deal with friend or foe, family or stranger today. If I was forced to be social, people might find themselves garroted by that remaining unbroken "D" string upstairs.
As I looked at my telephone answering machine, the message indicator blinked with the number 20 in the LED screen. I did get one of the only smiles of the last few weeks after I put it in the microwave on HIGH for 10 minutes. I assume it was a nice explosion, but I didn't stick around to watch.
I managed to sit on my couch and grab the bag I had lugged in from a friend's house the previous night. As I unzipped it and took out its lone content, I thought about that little fucking bastard from across the street and how he thought it was so funny lighting off that firecracker above my sleeping head as I lay on the front lawn after my yardwork. The last sound I ever heard was my own eardrums popping and then nothing but the ringing and the throbbing of my heart.
I lived with no scarring, but is this a life? No music. No voices to comfort you. No comedy to make you smile. No horns to rail at. No nothing but a buzzing ring and a rising and falling pressure sound in my fucking head.
I looked at the gun I held in my hand and realized that I wouldn't even hear it go off when I pulled the trigger.
Now I only wish I could hear that horn.
The sunlight streamed into my room, but I've never felt more in the dark in my entire life. I wept for hours because that sunlight caused so much joy that the songbirds were trilling their throats hoarse and I just hated them for it. I looked down and saw that my stereo had gone on again this morning because I never bothered to reset the alarm to keep it off.
A few minutes passed and I placed the bat back next to my bed; the stereo would turn on no more. What might have been comical and possibly theraputic a few weeks ago was yet another horrible reminder of my life. The smashed stereo now sat (or more to the point, lay) next to the used guitar I once bought (with amp) for $100 from an ex-girlfriend's sister. Of course that guitar had seen better days because now the neck was broken from the body and skewered the amp's sole speaker. The sole remaining string that hadn't broken ("D" I believe) basically held everything tight while the world was pulling it apart.
I trudged down the stairs and saw someone banging on my door. I gave them the finger and walked into the kitchen. I was most definitely not in the mood to deal with friend or foe, family or stranger today. If I was forced to be social, people might find themselves garroted by that remaining unbroken "D" string upstairs.
As I looked at my telephone answering machine, the message indicator blinked with the number 20 in the LED screen. I did get one of the only smiles of the last few weeks after I put it in the microwave on HIGH for 10 minutes. I assume it was a nice explosion, but I didn't stick around to watch.
I managed to sit on my couch and grab the bag I had lugged in from a friend's house the previous night. As I unzipped it and took out its lone content, I thought about that little fucking bastard from across the street and how he thought it was so funny lighting off that firecracker above my sleeping head as I lay on the front lawn after my yardwork. The last sound I ever heard was my own eardrums popping and then nothing but the ringing and the throbbing of my heart.
I lived with no scarring, but is this a life? No music. No voices to comfort you. No comedy to make you smile. No horns to rail at. No nothing but a buzzing ring and a rising and falling pressure sound in my fucking head.
I looked at the gun I held in my hand and realized that I wouldn't even hear it go off when I pulled the trigger.
// posted by bjciii @ 2:06 PM 
