An Unspeakable Vision of Horror

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Milk gives me the fucking shits.

I don't know if you're lactose intolerant, but I am and when I drink milk, I get the wildest fucking shits known to man. I don't think I've ever mentioned this before so I'm mentioning it now. Why? Because I'm tired of loving cereal and milk and not being able to have it. So this week, when I went food shopping I got this obscenely huge one pound box of Honey Nut Cheerios and a gallon of milk. I was ready to go to town when I got home.



And that's just what I did. I sat down and made a big assed bowl of Cheerios after dinner of garlic and pepper pork chop and lemon seasoned broccoli...oh yeah, I can cook when I want to...and then my bowl of cereal. It was so good that I made another, and right after that my stomach started gurgling and hurting. I'm not talking upset, I'm talking killing my ass.



I grabbed a music roll and headed down the hall to my bathroom and planted my ass. That's when the floodgates of Hell opened up in my asshole and I let her rip. Every bit of food that I ate all day long, flushed out of my system. I'm talking about a small Drakes coffee cake, some cubes of cheese, the pork chop and broccoli, and the bowls of cereal. All gone, with an equally terrific amount of pain.



I was happy when I was through and pissed that I can't enjoy my milk and cereal when I want to. My roughage is just a little too rough. That's alright though. I can deal with it. I  sleep again, in fact, now that I've stopped taking the Wellbutrin, I sleep a whole lot. I'm out like a light and stay out for about an hour, and then I wake up because I have to piss.



It seems that today, the crows rule the hallway outside. I hear them flying back and forth, huge ebony wings batting the air throwing long, dark feathers in passing. They caw, or rather shout and laugh and talk so loud you'd think these bitches were deaf. Or at least hard of hearing. And they always have to congregate at my door, talking to Paula, who can't seem to move from her door and attracting all of these babbling crows to her side. Always right in front of my door.



When we moved in, I don't know if I told you this, but we both were given our keys and we came up to our rooms, trying to fit key to lock and both of us found it impossible. We went back downstairs and told management that they gave us the wrong keys, thinking that maybe they reversed them. You know, she had mine and I had hers. They shook their heads and smiled and gave us a little known fact. We've been without a key and door for so long we've FORGOTTEN how to use a lock.



What? How can you fucking forget how to put a key in a damn lock. But lo and behold, the second time we went upstairs we got in. Huh? Maybe they were right. As I walked into my room, Paula says to me, "Oh how lucky we are to be right across from each other! That way we can check up on each other. I'd sure appreciate it if you'd check up on me from time to time." Yeah, right. I smiled and shut my door. You've got to be kidding. In the future I'll be praying for something to happen to you in that little room. My crystal ball tells me that you'll have a gaggle of crows around constantly and calling the police on a regular basis because you've stopped breathing after taking a tremendous hit of crack. Sorry pal, I can do without taking care of you.



But they are outside all day, like they own the hall, their personal little playground.  But you know me, I'm constantly thinking of ways to get them from in front of my door. I've been trying with sonic blasts from my new stereo, but they can out-talk cannon fire. So fuck this for now. I'm just going to....



My eyes start to droop, my head nods. That's what I'm going to do. I'm going to crawl back into bed and get some shuteye. Then I'm getting up and eating some more cheerios.

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