i love it when you melt into an indistinguishable collection of pixels, baby

Hey, I couldn’t help noticing that we ordered the same sandwich. BLT with avocado, right? Yeah, it’s a good one. Mind if I sit with you? Yeah, I know there are a ton of tables open, but don’t you think it’s a shame how society has programmed us to think it’s less weird to isolate ourselves from the world rather than acknowledging your neighbor? I mean, we walk by the same people every day, content to pass by without ever reaching out to them. Seems a waste if the only thing we share with others is the same dour look on our way to the next mundane task.

Oh, you got the sweet potato fries; those are so great. Man, I am so jealous. I’ll bet you have such an awesome metabolism. You look like you could eat a garbage bag full of hamburgers and be no worse for wear. Not me, though, I got the fruit cup, which is pretty great in its own right. Sometimes I like to pretend I’m a Viking, and the fruit cup is an unsuspecting little hamlet I’ve some to ransack. I’ll take my fork and stab a piece of canteloupe right in front of his children as they tremble in fear, or cut a grape’s eyes out so that the last thing it ever sees is its hut being burned and his wife screaming as she’s dragged off by my tribesmen to the longboat, where she’ll serve as the evening’s “entertainment”. And then, my face splattered with viscera and gore, the primal satisfaction engendered by a day of nonstop killing resulting in sexual arousal barely concealed by my animal pelt kirtle, I’ll leave a few survivors, not out of mercy, but to run and spread the tale of my ruthlessness throughout the land. Pretty crazy, huh, Mark? What do you mean, how do I know your name? Same way I know your address, 705 East Landover Avenue, apartment 338. Well, if I didn’t know that stuff, I would be much of a new best friend, would I?


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October 2010
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