I had one last look at the floor and made my way to the restroom. Wait�I had one look at the floor, and took one last trip to the restroom. Wait, I had a look at the floor for the last time, and made my way to the restroom. Wait, I had a look, I had a look at the floor, and then I made my way to the restroom. Oh fuck it. For an eternity I have felt like this. For the longest time I have held the same beliefs and same ideas about it all (none of your damn business). Only the smart ones notice it. Only the bright ones will change when I tell them to change. I could care less if it�s selfish. I could care less if my words insult anyfuckingbody. It�s the way it is. This is what it is though (none of your damn business). I have plans I will bring to light next week at midnight every night, for forty days straight, that I will not tell a single person about. I won�t tell a single person what I want to do for a party. I�ve been told a lot of things. A lot of funny things (none of your damn business) about a lot of weak people. The weak people are the ones that end the day with a Budweiser and a cigarette. The weak ones are the ones that ignore people of the same sex. This fuck at work does that. Talks to all the women and everything, but ignores you when you say hello to him. This fuck will someday realize all the women there think he�s a freak. They call him �Monkee Boy� because he wears a Monkees shirt. He is the most annoying (none of your damn business) fucking fuck I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He will pay when I have sex with every single woman at work by the end of November. The weak ones are the ones that talk and talk and force their opinions on you. Make you feel like a piece of shit. It feels so good to be right doesn�t it? Let me guess what kind of upbringing you had, a long brutal upbringing with absentee parents and the like. Long winters with no toys, a sled made of a cardboard box, and beef stew out of the can for dinner every night. Never the good beef (none of your damn business). I take a look at the floor. I look at the little children singing and dancing to the wrong kind of music and quickly need to run to the restroom. I always needed to escape. When I was a little boy, Ozzy Osbourne would take me into my room and help me jump out of the window. Satan laughing spreads his wings. I have one favor to ask of everyone I know. Never ever fucking call me again. That�s right, leave me the fuck alone. I don�t want to hear it. Well, wait just a minute though, I have a birthday coming up (none of your damn business) . So then I have two favors to ask of everyone, wish me a happy birthday, and then never call me ever the fuck again. Let me just sit down and catch my breath once in a great while. There are all these issues I have with everything right now. It�s all out of my head thank God. It�s all been written down in the history books. It�s all been put to rest. The weak ones are the ones I attack. When they are weak, you attack. When they are weak, you make your move, and plunge the silver dagger through their brain. You get one thing done, and then the next move is to (none of your damn business) just move along and forget about it. Fuhgetaboutit.Eh? The weak ones are the ones that won�t admit their weakness. They are adamant about their choices in life. Their choice to enjoy a frosty one or ten. They then discover down the line that they can�t stop. Nobody loves their ugly ass face. Nobody wants to help them. Twelve steps to freedom. One step towards me, and they get a two by four in the teeth. Blood and Jack Daniels all over the wood floor. Fuck, that shit will stain the floor (none of your damn business) God damn it. It�s like this. Come to me and kiss me with the Vodka in one hand and a rose in the other. I want to stick the thorns into your neck and watch you on the floor wondering what�s wrong with me all of a sudden. It used to be so easy with you. You always say that to me. You always tell me it�s easy, and not a hard thing to get through. I think you�re wrong. You are completely crazy. Look at the beautiful wood floors in this kitchen. This kitchen was the last place you saw me. I gave you the toothpick you needed. Pick your teeth out of the wood floor now. Pick up the pieces (none of your damn business) of your scattered life now. I have but one favor to ask though. Let me help you up, and let me help you to the door. The weak ones are the ones that can�t sit there in silence by themselves for more than a day. They run to the party. They run to the nightclub and surround themselves with spotlights and margaritas and left over boys with lipstick all over their mouths from earlier excursions with the better chicks. I let them out of the door, and where do they end up. Back at square one. The best I can do is sit back and wonder. Wonder (none of you damn business) what it is I can do for you now. I told you I had all of those ideas. The weak ones are the ones that call me and tell me they need to get something at the store and will be right back. The weak ones are the ones I meet every week. They meet me and seem to want to know me. Unfortunately, I�m all booked now. Booked up for the rest of the season. I have a list of gifts for everyone in my back pocket. I have a list I�m checking twice and a list I will throw out. Let�s see coal for Matt, coal for Stefanie, coal for Shawn, coal for Heather, coal for Annu, coal for everyone. Well, okay I may get some nice pink coal for the girls. The girls like things in pink I hear. Pink is this years black actually (none of you damn business). Pink is the universal color for girls. They told me that on the television one night. They also told me not to trust anyone under thirty. Hell, I don�t trust the dog downstairs, and he can�t even speak English. Well, let me repeat that better, he can�t speak at all�as far as I can tell. Never try to teach a dog to speak. It does something, and then it annoys the duck. I mean it annoys the dog. The weak ones are the ones that hide behind the drink of gin and juice in hopes of making it out alive. My experiments with that stuff were fun for a couple of months. The experiment was, �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� repeat with me: �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� ( none of your damn business) �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� ( none of your damn business) �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� �Let�s see how completely fucking redundant every single person in the world is� It worked. It was the same. Same jokes. Same tired old faces doing their best Bruce Lee impressions. Like being on the team that had all the scrawny kids on it. Like being on the team that has no values. Like being on the team that presses on, but with the touch of a little mouse. The weak ones are the ones that were to blind to see what was going on.( none of your damn business) He�s a dumper! I caught him in the bathroom dumping his beer out! I did my time, and now I have to fucking sit through this whole class again. I did my time with the scrawny kids. I did my time with sheep and the zombies. Let�s see how much we can, wait, let�s see how�okay, on your mark, get set, go! I liked the way she looked at me though. With this stare right out of a Bukowski story. There�s nothing romantic about the drunk woman. There is something utterly fucking disgusting about it though. The weak ones are the ones that bought me a beer for my birthday, and a plate of spinach for my going away party. The weak ones are the ones that swear to tell lies, and nothing but lies. Lies about spinach. I�d say it made my arms big, ( none of your damn business) and my ego shrink. For the last time, call me this weekend. For the last time let me do the talking, you�re really gonna fuck us over if we let you talk. You don�t even know because it�s not really any of your business anyway.

before & after