Twatted Admiration

Thursday,
December 08, 2011

11:26 AM

Sitting on a park
bench, sun on my face, and I’m eating a cup cake, white cake, frosted with
vanilla coconut shreds.

When an ex, a jilted
lover, turns her head walking by and recognizes me. There in that flash across
her face the hate, the contempt of my being is perceptibly clear.

This just as I bite
into the cupcake revealing the raspberry filling, the sweet joy of sugar
dopamine, I’m truly happy at a chemical level. And she can see it in my face.

This enrages her to
no end. That I dastard, evil deed doer that I am. Villainous scoundrel, rake of
damned devilishness, should deserve the bliss of sun, and air, and sweetener.

She was kind of a
bitch, so I savor the next bite, wipe my mouth and call out, “Do I know
you?”

She just shrieks and
runs off to pinball inside the twisted world her errant cunt fumigates.

I smile, I’d never
call her so foul so intensely to her face, but in the warming waters of my
sapient sentient  sea serpent, I feel
like she’s a real twat proper.