Happy Sunday folks, it's been a rainy week, filled with odd thoughts and odder situations,
I had to get loud with a crazy person the other day, some fuckin Baker act that seems to have a hard on for me every time he's off his meds,
I'm not going to lie or try to be a tough guy here, the man has been coming around trying to pick a fight, saying all those things men must say to challenges one's manhood and sexuality,
I'm 42 years old, and I hate saying that, like there's a responsibility to the age that makes you have to behave,
I hate that shit, I feel like taking off my steel belt and wrapping it around his head, slowly laughing like the Joker while the life ebbs from his body,
He's a crazy, unemployed loser, who will miss him
My dog is dead, my summer fling is over, no one is waiting at home,
What do any of us have to lose,
The last time I tossed a man out of my lounge, I had to defend my actions to the cops to not get dragged off to jail,
A fine, 20 hours of community service and 8 weeks of the stupidest anger management courses I ever had to sit through,
All that runs through my mind as my heart palpitates and my hands shake from the anger and adrenaline coursing through my body,
But this is different,
I don't think this crazy person will call the cops,
So we fight, but then I think about killing him,
Choking, run him over with the car, hell just a good old knife to the throat,
Is it worth it? Right now it is, why validate this man for his words of disrepect,
I try to analyze why a man would center in on me,
So many of them, old me, the washed up writer who can't seem to win over the mainstreams,
The hack, the former everything,
Why not,
When I wake I still like what I see, broke and graying, lighter one bulldog and still living in the guest house owned by mom and dad, a converted closet becomes the inventory, and a tea lounge becomes the office, the angels the saunter in and out are my muses and the ones that make me laugh are my elves, who may or may not become apprentices should this empire be more then the dreams of a scoundrel,
So what's next? Do we kill him or not, if he approaches it's a no brainer, but will we sub consciously bait in order to satisfy the urge,
I think about that with each keystroke,
And then I think about my mother, my father,
I think about my promise to them,
That the criminal was dead,
And only under extreme circumstances,
Do we revert to the old ways,
Keep it to the comics, she would make me promise,
So I sit here typing, become vlogging isn't really that appealing to me to be honest,
This is my strength,
Keep it the comics,
All those things about the lounge are true,
So I guess that would make the crazies out there, the demons, the ogres, the monsters that we always root for the knight to slay,
I am a knight,
And sometimes knights must kill,
It never seems right for Knights to call the cops on the subject of trespassing,
Or bait him just for the thrill of sticking a knife in his throat and laughing like Heath in The Dark Knight,
But instead, I will have to smoke the rest of this oil,
And quite possibly get a hooker,
But the one thing I will not do willingly,
Is kill some sad pile of shit,
That is not the mark of a knight,
But the move of a thug,
It sounds like a cop out,
Because it is,
I take no satisfaction in putting down a loser,
No better then a vet has to put down a sick animal,
I can pray for God to do it,
And I'll keep you posted on how it all pans out,
If you have come this far,
Then you are the reason I am cured,
This is truly the only thing that works,
When the drugs fail,
And the girls disappoint,
And to end the plug,
Kickstarter Link to the Dirty Disney Art Book,
https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/hooligansco/faros-lounge-presents-the-dirty-disney-art-book
Cheers,
FK
