short phony people are people too.

Jack Tait turned on the tv after a long day sitting by a lake and throwing stones.  life can be so great sometimes.  he had a bottle of Jack Daniels in his mouth and a converter in his right hand.  click.  click.  click.  click.  he couldn’t stop flipping channels.  he couldn’t find anything interesting.  this particular night was worse.  oscars.  oscars.  oscars.  oscars.  a bunch of pathetic rich pansy geeky short botoxy pricks all pretending to be drunk and important.  “WHAT A PILE OF FUCKING SHIT!!!”  Jack screamed as he hurled his empty bottle of Jack at the tv smashing it into tiny little pieces.
  Jack then got up and went to the bathroom.  he took a big sloppy shit and left without wiping his ass.  Jack was drunk.  he went to the kitchen to grab another forty ouncer of Jack and walked outside.  he opened the door.  he closed the door.  he then sat on his run down steps and continued to pour his medicine into his run down body.  a big smile appeared on Jack’s face.
  Jack looked out into the wilderness and envisioned a life filled with real people doing real things and having real conversations.  he knew that life had long ago taken a massive turn for the worse and did not ever see a return to the good old days.  he wondered why people cared about such pathetic pricks on tv.  pathetic pricks on big screens.  pathetic pricks in churches.  he knew there was a reason why he had no friends.  the world was invaded by pansies and bores.  he had a computer once but after reading phony love posts on facebook one too many times and seeing countless spelling mistakes on words such as “your” and “you’re” and “to” and “too” he smashed it in a fit of calm.  he used a louisville slugger baseball bat.
  rain started falling down on Jack as he sat on his porch but he did not care.  he was naked and he was drunk.  his long balding hair was getting wet but Jack loved being wet.  thunder.  lightning.  wind.  Jack loved nature.  he sat and listened.  coyotes.  squirrels.  dogs.  birds.  more thunder.  more lightning.  life was good for Jack.  he sat and pondered.  he pondered some more and then finished his second bottle of Jack.  he got up and drunkenly ran around his empty yard naked and in the rain.  he felt like a kid again.  he fell.  he got up.  he screamed.  he fell some more.  he took one last big fall onto the wet grass and lay there looking up at the sky and feeling rain fall down on his face and felt sorry for all those people who actually think the academy awards mean something.  people who think the academy awards are exciting.  people who actually watch those shitty movies and buy those shitty magazines.  he wished he could convince those people that there are better more exciting things to life than THAT.  but he knew his efforts were futile so he closed his eyes and went to sleep.  Jack Tait had a big smile on his face.  and a big hard on.