Has an Antelope on his wall, Kinda Baaaahhhhddd ass.
For splooge gook.
would slit my throat and feel NOTHING
Of course I'd feel something, Not much but something. Mostly the feel you get when you take a sharp knife and put it through warmed up butter, Creamy and smooth until you hit the back of the dish and feel a warm frothy mess bubbles up slightly sticky when if gets on your fingers.
You'd slowly start to fall as you rapidly lost consciousnesses as I grabbed your hair in a fluid almost beautiful motion and greedily, violently threw you into the waiting van. If you still had anything left you'd feel the cold embrace or plastic covered steel and see the interior light go out.
I'd still feel much much more afterwards though, The handle of the spray bottle as I quickly and quietly destroyed any blood left behind with some ammonia. If it's raining not so much effort would have to go into it as the rain would wash your existence down the drain.
You'd have long since lost any feeling but I'd feel the heat from the acetylene torch as I cut the top off an old oil tank and made some holes for the sides (drafts are very important when disposing of a body after all) And I'd feel the roughness of the iron wood and oak as I filled it nearly to to top. Smallish stuff so it'd burn allot faster with some bigger logs closer to the top.
Then I'd feel how light you are as your eyes start to glaze over and I pick you up and place you on top of your last bed. Using a sawsall I'd make you even lighter to make sure there wasn't much left after I lit the fire and sat around enjoying a rye and ginger under the moon lit stars cleaning up the van as time went on.
The final thing I'd feel is the grind of the old meat grinder after I sifted and sorted anything that was left in the ashes, Every last bit of you ground to sand and silt put all into a bag to be dropped into three different rivers or lakes.
Otherwise I'm good with you lad, I think your just a little confused and looking for your place in life.
Al
