alone and crying.

wind.  rain.  cold.  dark.  a remote farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.  stillness.  quietness.  peaceful.  beautiful.  seemingly nothingness in a seemingly nothingness world.  Jack Tait emerged from his fourteen hour binge of booze, drugs, women, and screaming.  a calmness after severe chaos.  “when will life ever change?”  Jack thought as he looked outside at a barren field filled with ants and squirrels.
he walked to his dirty fridge and opened the dirty door.  one lonely can of beer.  Jack grabbed it and walked back to his shitty purple reclining chair and sat down.  he opened the lonely beer and sat back looking up at his dirty ceiling.  fourteen hours of chaos seemingly taking it’s toll on poor old Jack Tait.  he sat in the same position for eight minutes and then drank his last remaining beer.  he lifted up his left cheek and let out a smelly fart and then realized it was a smelly shit so he stumbled to the bathroom with his right hand holding his cheeks together.  he sat on the dirty toilet and squeezed fourteen hours of debauchery out of his bum and into the dirty toilet.  “AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH…what a relief,”  Jack screamed out in elation.  he wiped his ass.  flushed the dirty toilet and walked back to the purple reclining chair.  sweat pouring off of his red face.  he wanted to call his friends but they were all gone.  tick tock tick tock tick tock tick tock.  life speeding up but Jack’s body slowing down.  pounding head and a pounding heart.  Jack decided that he needed fresh air so he splashed water on his face and walked out into the cold, damp, rainy weather and jumped onto his blue tricycle.  he rode down his long lonely driveway and turned right.  cars whizzing by.  trucks whizzing by.  the odd horn and the odd butterfly.  life a moving paradox and Jack was part of it.  dead but alive.  alive but dead.  out of shape and one testicle.  out of work and out of love.  smarter than most but unable to play the game.  unable to conform in a sickeningly conformist world.  Jack rode and rode.  sweat pouring off of his ugly body.  big bold signs which read Loblaws and smaller signs which read Woolrich Farms were filling Jack’s eyelines.  also filling his brain.  “MONEY.  MONEY.  MONEY…EVERYONE WANTS FUCKING MONEY AND THEY WANT IT FOR FUCKING PROVIDING ME WITH NOTHING BUT SHIT.  SHIT.  AND MORE SHIT.  WE ARE MAGGOTTS RUNNING IN CIRCLES.  ANTS RUNNING AROUND LIKE WHORES ON GLUE.  KARDASHIANS.  TRUMP.  HARPER.  SHOPPING CHANNELS FILLED WITH FUCKING GARBAGE THAT THE FUCKING PEASANTS ARE BUYING.  WHAT A FUCKING DISGRACE THE HUMAN RACE IS.  GREED.  LAZINESS.  NO BRAINED FUCKERS WITH BORING SLOGANS AND BORING ASSES.  I WANT TO FUCK A MILLION GIRLS.  NO BOYS.  NO ANIMALS.  FUCK THEM AND THEN DRINK WITH THEM AND THEN GO ON HIKES NAKED WITH THEM AND THEN FUCK THEM ALL IN THE CORNFIELDS WHILE THE SHEEP WALK AROUND WITH SHOES BOUGHT ON THE FUCKING SHOPPING CHANNEL.”
Jack Tait rode to the closest beer store which was eleven hours away and stood outside until some fat fucker with a pair of Crocs came out with shitty beer.  he then pushed the fat fucker to the ground and grabbed his shitty beer.  “GIVE ME MY BEER BACK YOU NAKED OLD SHIT”,   the fat fucker said.  “FUCK YOU FAT FUCKER”,  Jack Tait screamed back.  Jack jumped on his blue tricycle and began to ride away.  he pedalled faster than he has ever pedalled before.  he pedalled faster than when some old dried up cunt from England was trying to convince him that the Queen was actually relevant and important.  “GOD FUCK THE QUEEN…THAT’S WHAT I SAY…GOD FUCK THE QUEEN.”  peasants trying to rip people off constantly with fake shoes and fake smiles.  fakes following other fakes while real people like Jack are smothered in diamonds.  Jack continued to ride his tricycle down an ugly barren road and was almost home when a big Transport Truck pulled up alongside Jack.  the window rolled down and a rifle came out.  “GIVE ME MY BEER BACK YOU STUPID LITTLE FUCKER OR I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!”  Jack Tait looked up and saw SLOTH.  another pig in a truck that makes too much fucking noise and not enough brain or emotion.  “WHY DO WE HAVE SO MANY FUCKING DUMB PEOPLE IN OUR WORLD???”  Jack thought to himself.  as he thought gun shots were fired.  one miss.  two miss.  three miss four. 
“KILL ME YOU FAT FUCKER.  I WANT YOU TO KILL ME!!!”  and with that the truck was gone.  Jack Tait still had his bad beer.  his bad bike.  his bad hair.  and his bad life.  the rains became heavier as Jack Tait opened his shitty front door and walked into his shitty farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.  he flicked on the shitty lights and saw a baby girl.  she was alone and crying.  Jack Tait put his beer down and ran to the girl.  he picked her up and held her tight.  she instantly stopped crying.  she was now silent.  so was Jack.  eleven hours later Jack Tait woke up.  baby girl still on Jack’s hairy belly.
  LOVE STILL CONQUERS ALL.  AND IN THIS WORLD OF HATE AND GREED AND USELESS BORES WITH USELESS JOBS AND USELESS MINDS CONDITIONED TO FOLLOW AND CONDITIONED TO CONSUME,  THE INNOCENCE OF A CHILD MAKES TIME STAND STILL.
  Jack Tait closed his eyes again.  so did his daughter.