jack tait wonders what’s next.
his arms, shoulders, neck, and legs are all sore. all in pain.
sore.
stiff.
he ended up removing his one testicle but he doesn’t think it would be smart to remove both arms, both legs, and both shoulders.
how would he drink his jack daniels?
for now he accepts the pain and sips his coffee.
he doesn’t only drink jack daniels.
as warped and lonely as he is on the outside he is more tortured and more lost on the inside.
but he still enjoys a good coffee in the aftermath of a drunken debauchery the night before.
he hopes his bowel movements will be back to normal after a rough day on the toilet yesterday.
“getting old sucks”, jack whispers to himself.
“yes it does”, replied his old purple beaten down or beaten up reclining chair.
jack tait sits in pain.
he once sat in shame but, after years of useless therapy that didn’t do anything but bomb his bank account, he realized that no one gave a fuck about anyone else other than to gossip like schoolgirls and housewives.
jack tait said, “FUCK SHAME” and began drinking more and masturbating more. he also grew out his balding hair and thick beard and left his one sagging nut dangle and free to do whatever the fuck it wanted to do.
JACK TAIT WAS A FREE MAN.
A FREE MAN AT LAST.
BUT GOD (?) DIDN’T WANT HIM TO BE FREE. SO HE PUNISHED HIM WITH CONSISTENT PAIN IN HIS ARMS. CONSISTENT PAIN IN HIS SHOULDERS. CONSISTENT PAIN IN HIS LEGS.
punishing jack for living a free and debacherous life filled with no money but lots of fucks.
no money but lots of drunkeness.
no money but lots of wild nights and wild weeks filled with booze and drugs and laughs and fucks and failed fucks and failed attempts at fucks and blacked out brains asleep on random couches and random floors of random jails.
exciting times and exciting girls.
god works in mysterious ways???
jack tait sits alone in pain but no shame and sits on his purple reclining chair. he sips his coffee and wonders when he will die. his Dad died suddenly one night on a gymnasium floor teaching kids how to play soccer and how to be a better person. a great man taken way too soon while evil men with evil souls and no hearts run countries and ruin the world.
GOD YOU ARE ONE FUCKED UP MAN (if you are real).
jack tait has another sip of coffee and closes his eyes.
he can now sleep.
he is free.
notanotherphony. 