my patience is tapped.
it's time to tell me-
you need to accept that all those questions chasing each others tails in your psyche will probably never be answered
you were six when your father was arrested for the final time
not that it's any of your business but i was seven.
with your mother killed during one of your fathers criminal ventures
you were raised by your grandmother
because of what happened to her daughter your grandmother would not let you visit your father
when he died in prison two years later
all you had to remember him by was the replica pistol he gave you before he was arrested
the one you used to keep under your pillow
garry would never have told you all that.
my conversation with garry was quite brief
over the years i have developed a need to better understand the people i
these stories have helped me elicit a greater enjoyment from my work
this skill i have honed
stop me if i get something wrong
by Lliam Amor, Dan Beeston and the Goatlord.
©2009 Dan Beeston
I set off a nuclear bomb the other day.
I felt bad about all the people in the town that was about to become the foundations for a large, crater shaped swimming pool so I murdered them all first.
I guess I could have warned them of their imminent evaporation instead.
Funny how the mind works, wot?
The actual detonation (viewed from a vantage point on high and many, many miles from ground zero) was somewhat cathartic, though.
As all such moments, it was far too fleeting and the memory impermanent.
So soon the next town beckons...