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L.A. Fisher - It Was Pretty GoodChapter 22
There isn’t a Hell.
We all live through our lives trying to do what’s right; so that we can feel good; so that we can get something in return; so that God forgives us and we can go to Heaven and rejoice and eat turkey, or whatever. The truth is there isn’t a Hell. There’s only a Heaven, and the guy that runs it stopped paying attention to our little planet a couple thousand years ago when we decided to torture and murder his son. Now, he’s a pretty cool guy, don’t get me wrong, he just got tired of dealing with our shit.
Why wouldn’t he?
He sends us salvation and we maim it and hang it out to dry. But God said that he sent his only son to die for us all, and apparently he meant it. So we’re all winners.
Lucky too, otherwise I don’t think I would have made the cut. God sees the world as hell enough, all the pain and suffering, the torture and death, the rape and pillaging.
Extenuating CircumstancesChapter 20
Fat Frankie bounded into Mäni’s thirty minutes after I told him to be there. He pushed his way into the diner and slid the little chair out from under the table. Every sitting experience must have felt like a colonoscopy to the man. He dropped onto the chair and hung over either side of it.
Frankie’s shirt was soaked with sweat; around the collar, under his armpits. Just walking from the bus into the bakery and he looked like he ran the Boston Marathon. He smelled like a day old urine cake. I don’t know if it was his pores that reeked of shit or if he had actual bladder control problems. I regretted meeting the guy instead of talking to him over the phone, but at least this way we got some free cake.
Kendra was a doll and didn’t gag on the obese man’s body odor. She had never made a big deal of my self-created malformation and she didn’t make a big deal of the portly man’s r
Eat'em: Chapter 6Chapter 6
I sat in on a philosophy course instructed by Dr. Reeder. It surprised me nobody noticed I didn’t answer during role call. Dr. Reeder didn’t seem to care. Perhaps since he figured we paid out of pocket to be there, it made no difference if we were taking his class or not. Still, I welcomed anonymity.
Technically, I should have been in math, but five minutes in the class bored me out of mind. All I needed to do was show up for tests and have Eat’em read off the answers while I filled in the blanks. My teachers in high school thought my grades were a reflection of hard work, when truthfully I couldn’t get through basic arithmetic on my own. I decided a better use of my time was to follow Isaac’s advice. Philosophy surely couldn’t be worse than redundant equations.
According to Val, philosophy, speech, poetry and psychology were breeding grounds for meeting hot single women. My psychology class took place in a large auditorium and focus
cross our paths
for their effects
every poem begins with sometimes
every dream begins with maybe
Short PoemHer eyes return my gaze,
A gentle “Hello” at first glance.
Those chocolate brown coloured eyes,
So full of love and compassion.
Without a sound from my lips,
A solitary cry escapes.
Her serene marble-like stare,
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