Tonight is the night before the day of contrived importance. It is mired in nostalgia and consumerism.
Right now, at this very fucking moment, people are sitting in a fire lit room surrounded by relatives they don't like and hardly know all for the sake of a religious holiday nobody actually gives a shit about.
But hey, presents.
The gift I gave myself was hearing a girl half my age moan while I sucked on her clitoris.
After that I took my dog, Little Dave, out for a walk.
During the walk we found a blanket and pillow laid out on the ground in front of a dentist office.
A schizophrenic man in a beige trench coat appeared on a bicycle. He rode in a circuitous pattern while smoking a cigarette. I think he was talking to himself.
In the distance a deep and low pop sounded. Then another. And another...
By the third I realized a gun was being fired. The shots were rhythmic at first, then hurried.
Pop... pop... pop... pop... pop... pop... pop-pop-pop.
Feel certain the noise came from Hollywood and Western. Suddenly sirens could be heard in every direction. Seven in total, I think.
Needless to say Litle Dave and I made our way the fuck home.
A police helicopter is buzzing above my apartment like a horny mosquito now.
Merry Methmas.
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