Nuts by James Heartlit
Nuts!
By James Heartlit
Here I sit beneath the hindering flames of oligarchy. The bemoaning of fish is still ringing in my ears. It is the heathens who do this. Who admire the liar and the thief. It is the president who slays me. Time and time again, he kills without warning and is heavily allergic to private areas. He dominates nobody except his small friend the billfold. He lurks where there is no lurking and flies when nobody watches. He’s mellow yellow in the head. He drinks dragon water and calls it fish dew. He drinks enough of it to squash a horse. It seems to be his unwavering alimony for delicious little organisms named Nick. He is the manger of god, the king of heaven and earth, yet nobody speaks with him. You know why? It’s because he’s a bad man and an animal. He drinks from the toilet every Sunday and calls it yakuza. It hurts to see him around, because all he ever did was squeal. He’d squeal on me, on you, and on his own grandmother.
He thinks his name is stupid but he wants everyone to know it. He cheated on me 5 times with some redhead named Bill. He’s a snake and a raptor and would kill for a slice of bread. He’s jacked up and mad. He sprays onion salt all over his testicles and calls it delicious. He brings heat to no man but himself through high dollar transactions of sluts and prostitutes. He hanged me in the bathroom of his walled-up closet. He pains me to no end, but I have an idea. This idea is to wait, to wait until the time is right. This time will be tomorrow. He’s a wiltering pusswozzle to deal with but he has much strength. He’s determined. He’s hard to deal with, and I gave him a bloody nose once. It was heavenly. I thought I’d never beat him, but I did. Pow, write in his snot bubble.
He preys on little men named Rosey, and he squirms like you wouldn’t believe when his mommy comes calling. It’s because he knows he’s been a bad boy and refuses to yield. He drinks like a crazed sailor looking for joy in the bottom of a bottle. It’s crazy, it’s insane, it’s nuts. I have no idea how to describe him, he is indescribable. He truly is. It’s as if time itself refuses to bend for him. It’s eloquent and savory but I’ll have you know I tasted semen once and it was delicious. It tasted of raw eggs and spaghetti. It was harsh but I settled on something bigger. I like harshness, it beguiles me, bewilders me, and sings to me all at once. It’s like a hairstyle gone out of relevance. It sings to people, but also screws them over in a violent flash. This scares me, because I have no idea what to think. Hold on. I think I’m getting it, the love of my life stabbed me in the back and chose a different man than I. This confuses me, because now I don’t know where to get head from. It’s allergic to think of me as an Italian, I’m French, not Spanish or some harlot fruitwozzle. It’s the Italians isn’t it? They put you up to this. Those fruitwozzles. I can’t believe they’d do such a thing, it’s as if I don’t even know what I’m talking about. Cheers! This was a pleasant engagement.
I’ve had my fair share of battles but c’mon. How am I supposed to deal with a can of whoop ass? How am I supposed to feel afterwards. My woman who left me slept with my father, and I want to punch him, but I don’t want to get kicked out of home. It’s cold out there and everyone’s gone mad. Except for me of course. I’m the only sane one left. Me and my doggy. Her name is Priscilla and I feed her onion wings for supper almost every afternoon. This brightens me up and makes me sick at the same time. It’s dreadful but annoying altogether. It sins me to see this whole thing happening. Why? Why my father? Isn’t that weird. My brothers too, oh good heavens. Where on earth was she? I followed her trail but to no end it led to a school. A school I had high hopes for but today I request it’s elimination, for it has hung me up to dry with nowhere to go for help or support.
It’s allowed in high school to murder your face. It’s inhabitable to go without mercy. It just takes a lot of guts; guts I do not have. I spilled mine all over the place and it stunk. It stank to high heaven. It stank like almighty god stinks after he beats you with a belt. This nerves me to no end. I have a peanut butter craving for this craving and it soaks me to no end. How have habits lasted the day with me? How have I gone so far that I can’t even believe my own bologna. Why is there a cat sitting down on a travesty over yonder. I have no clue, but it’s there. All better now? Oh, to squander your beliefs on dismal apologies aimed at the nervous system of an academy that beholds nothing to great extents. This is truly the travesty of the era, for who knows what could be beyond the infernal rageitudes that concense these appalling treaties. Why would I have pulled out now only to reimburse the platitudes of my making? Why then would I foresee the makings of encumbered sinners and retches alike? It’s no deal. It’s a harlitute, whatever that means. It’s bangoli fashion, it’s what sinners prepare themselves for. Rape! Yes I said rape, now calm down. Nobody raped you… yet.
Blessed be the avarice stricken plights of manmade wealth and university symbology. It is I, the long winger. The man they sent for. The one who has begotten much and stole even more. This is your chickens coming home to roost. This is why designer clothing is so costly, it’s the showers. It’s a dragon eye and it’s the cobwebs in the sky; oh I don’t know. I need to stop trying to unabashedly skewer the poor folk who call my name in the streets when they see me. Oh nevermind, of course I see fine. This is the best bit, when all heavens start to cry. This is the best part. The kids will love this. It’s a computer that tells people what to name their party kids. This thing bites as I don’t have time for this. Gotta run! Oh good heavens! I can’t believe my ears. This man paid me to invite his son to Europe to wage war against the savage priesthood they call a monarchy. This is what I called you down for. This is monasis! Do you even know what that means you little worm? No, you don’t, because I have made it all up you stupid fool! I have eyes in candles and ear in bread basket. This behavior has caused enough hate crimes for one century. This is how I make ends meat. I make it all day and I try it for lunch on occasion. You’ve never heard of me before? Let me tell you who I really was. I was a mentor, I was a pogrom, I was a philanderer, I was a party hound, always on the lookout for stray dames I could steal a kiss from. This was me. All day long. This is how I did this. How I came to be the president of all nations. It was fabulous timing. I got on spottingly well enough. I stretched myself so thin that I think I’m going a bit slow in the head. I can only see the future for what it is, not what it could be, and for this I apologize a trillion times. It was honorable of you to invite me to a slick town party. I couldn’t get the hint though. I was enthused but to my regret, or relief, I have failed you. Not once, but twice. This is a moral failing of mine that will never grow old. It’s supper in my bread. It’s flavorful and wretched at the same instance. It covers me in wealth and I enjoy every minute of it.
How does the bathed man twerk exactly? I see your point and I raise you twenty. Twenty what? Twenty dungholes you unbotherable heathen. You’re a knight in shining skywalker ranch. It’s the trouble I seek, for the pain or for the pleasure, you may never know, because I will not tell a soul of my encumberings, for this is the last way to kill myself and I’m saving it for last you heathen. This much money can only hurt the noble generations who betray the great wealth of mankind. It is however my great annoyance that I have to tell you all of this. It irks me and it makes me smile all at once. I’m sorry you don’t understand me you drunken sailor, but I have too many options for opening up square battles and such, this won’t take long, I’m 100% at the end. Good luck.