May 21, 2006

• The other day at 1:00 AM, I took a lovely stroll on the sidewalk next to the hobo
  park where they live under the bridge on Main Street. As usual one of
  them would say "hi." In response, I reply in my usually  rude and
  hostile tone, grunting "hey." For the past couple of nights they've
  been asking me if I want to do 'rock,' which to my knowledge is crack
  cocaine. At that moment my lust for killing people reaches its peak. I
  get really pissed off, I want to lacerate deep cuts all over their
  bodies and rub lousiana hot sauce in their wounds. I want to bludgeon
  their noses into the back of their sculls with my fists until the point
  that they bleed themselves to death through their nose. Unfortunately,
  they're not worth it; they really aren't. So I continue to walk away. I
  have too much pride and would rather die than to goto jail, even if I'm
  not guilty. Chinatown has alot of police cars on patrol. If there were
  no laws for eliminating such people, there would be no such people.
  Either way, I wouldn't of minded introducing his face to my fist if he
  wasn't so dirty looking.

  • 2:59 pm
  • 4 Comments