51 zits and counting.

Jack Tait woke up from a drunk induced sleep and walked to the can to take a big sloppy shit.  he then flushed the toilet and looked in the mirror.  zits. more zits.  zits.  zits.  and even more zits.  life is cruel.  Jack Tait wondered why he still got zits at the age of sixty.  he had lost his hair long ago as well as his right nut.  he even lost his confidence.  but the zits kept coming.  one zit.  two zits.  three zits.  four.  how many more.  he knew that his friends had died of cancers and other diseases and that was bad too but still…”WHY THE FUCK DO I STILL GET ZITS AT THE AGE OF SIXTY???”
  Jack Tait pulled out his safety pin and began picking.  one by one.  zit by zit.  his face becoming a bloody mess but there was no alternative to poor old zitty Jack.  he started using zit cream at the age of twelve but nothing changed.  oxy 5.  oxy 10.  neomedrol.  Clearasil.  toothpaste.  baking soda.  tetracycline.  minocin.  tea tree oil.  and even Accutane.  but nothing worked.  all these pastes and lotions and medicines and nothing.  all they did was dry up poor old Jack Tait’s face…and balls.  shrivelled up and forgotten.  lonely and pathetic.  mad and sad.  Jack wished he could have a face transplant but that would cost too much.  rich people have it easy.
  Jack Tait went back to bed.  alone.  he was mad at the world.  mad at god if there was one.  other people were pretty.  other people were successful.  other people were happy.  other people had love.  Jack Tait was locked in a room.  unable to go outside.  he took a deep breath and wondered why everyone else had better lives.  he also wondered why young kids get raped and murdered.  why elder people get abused.  why there is so much disease in this world.  why there are wars and suicides.  he even wondered why mother’s toss their babies off of balconies.  life is cruel…always.  “is there any help or is this all there is?”
  Jack Tait closed his eyes and fell asleep.  fifty one zits and more to come.
  FUCK.