I Like Toast

I ate a lot of toast. Never was much of a chef, and so I ate a lot of toast. Then one day I burned my finger on the toaster and I got so mad. I was like, "if there was a god, why would he let me burn my finger making my toast?"

That's why I don't think there is a god, but if there is, when I get to heaven I'm gonna jab him with my burned finger and say, "HEY! GOD! You let me burn my finger!"

So that's when I got to wishing I had someone to make me food, not that I wanted them to get burned, but I thought it might be nice to eat something besides toast and soup all the time.

I should kill someone. If I kill someone I'd get put on death row, and when you're on death row they give you your own cell and a pen and paper and you get to think of what you want for your last meal. Anything you want! You can order extra too cause it doesn't matter if you eat too much cause you''ll be dead soon anyway and you won't need to worry about indigestion. That's pretty cool, and who knows, maybe after you eat your desserts, cause you should order more than one dessert, maybe then the governor will pardon you and you'll get to leave, after having your free last meal!

That's what I was thinking when I decided to kill someone. But who should I murder? I was thinking so much about what I would order for my last meal I didn't think about who I would actually kill. Then I thought it would be funny if I killed a chef. Just shot him down or bashed his head in with a pot. Then I would get a free meal on death row. It would be like honoring the guy I killed. What a great idea.

So I went to the McDonalds around the block and I asked the girl if I could see the chef and borrow a pot. She was really rude right off the bat and I kind of regretted choosing a chef and not a girl at the cash register. She was all like, "Chef? What you mean chef? And what you need a pot for?"

I didn't want to tell her my whole plan cause she wasn't a friend of mine and I only tell secrets to my friends. I said, "I just want to meet the chef. And I want a pot. But I need the pot first before I meet the chef."

She looked down at my hands. I think she was looking at my burned finger. Then she looked back and me and said, "Get the fuck out of here man."

I thought that was pretty rude. The guy working the sundae machine came over and looked at me.

"Where's the chef?" I asked. "Wait! The pot first."

He laughed. "We don't have any chefs man. And pot's not on the dollar menu."

Just then I smelled those french fries and I remembered I had a dollar in my pocket so I thought, "OHHH! I can get those fries and I won't burn my finger."

So I ordered some fries. The cashier took my money while she muttered, "Crazy ass wants a fucking pot. Eat your fucking fries and shut the fuck up."

I shook my head. "You'll never be chef with that attitude."

Father's Day

Father's Day fills me with sadness sometimes...

I sit on a secluded park bench with my rifle neatly wrapped in colorful paper...a little present to myself.

It only somewhat makes up for the lack of gifts from my illegitimate children.

When I see the other fathers with their sons and daughters frolicking in the park and eating ice cream so messily with cold creamy dollops on their smiling chins I get hit with pangs of both hunger and regret. Perhaps I should let some of my illegitimate children find out where I am?

At least the ones whose mothers aren't in jail or completely destitute. Maybe I should let those ones track me down and put their little arms around me. They would probably give me presents on Father's Day.

But then I think that they would probably get me something stupid and unnecessary like a tie or an ugly shirt. Is an ugly shirt one day a year worth the burden of pretending to care about them or their mothers for the other 364?

I don't think so, and I've thought about it a lot.

So I sit on my bench in silence and secretly pretend my kids are all astronauts way off on the moon someplace, and that's why they are not with me today. I would be eating ice cream with them, but they are frolicking with aliens and scampering about atop moon rocks and cosmic hills.

Making Friends in Prison

I was raped in prison. It pained me so much...to be engaged in something that was so cliche.

I pleaded with him to at least do something original with me, like maybe we could be the first two cellmates to form a barbershop duet, or cure cancer.

He grunted something about, "How the fuck are we gonna cure cancer inside this prison cell?" as he tugged at my trousers.

I replied with exaggerated enthusiasm, "That's what'll make it so spectacular! People will be just as excited about who cured it, and where they did it, as they will about the cure itself. They'll be so amazed! Imagine two cons curing cancer with only a shiv, toilet water, and some soiled nudie mags."

That's when he violated me. I shook my head in disgust. "Let me guess, now you're going to call me "bitch" and other such unoriginal crap. This is so fucking lame."

"Christ you're a whiny motherfucker." He spat, disgusted, and I felt his dick go limp and slip out.

"Oh so now I'm not tight enough for you I suppose."

He sat on his bunk and whittled with his shiv. "You think I want to fuck a whiny bitch like you?"

"Oh so I AM a bitch?"

"Fuck yeah. Most guys just take it, or cry a lot. Tears I mean, none of this "how cliche" crap. You want me to be original? How the fuck can I stay hard when you say things like that to me."

"Did I hurt your feelings fuckface? Gee that's too bad, cause I guess I should've repaid your raping me with kindness."

"That's what Jesus would do. Turn the other cheek and all that shit."

"Are you making a pun?"

"Huh?"

"Cheek and shit, and what with my pants down and ass bare and all...sounds like a pun in there somewhere."

"Man could you just shut up for awhile. You're like the worst cellmate ever."

"Well how bout you cover that flaccid dick of yours. I don't really feel like staring at it all night. If you do that for me then maybe I'll vote you cellmate of the year. Tool."

"Shit. You should be happy to have me as a cellie. Not like I got AIDS or anything."

Since I had my pants down already I decided to take a shit and so I sat on the bowl right there in the open. I sighed as I waited for my bowels to move. Maybe I was being too hard on him, what with him being AIDS free and all, though I wasn't even sure that was true. Was he lying about not having AIDS just to get on my good side? He was jailed for wire fraud, and I don't think that makes him all that trustworthy.