Monday, November 2, 2009
Think of the most repulsive person you know. The stupidest, fugliest, snarkiest, shittiest, most unappealing human being you have ever met. And for some reason, you're on a plane with them. Its a perfectly normal plane ride, you go into the bathroom and masturbate when the turbulance kicks up, you banter with the flight attendant, you skim through this month's Nylon.....And then there are sparks. And theres fire. And you see the thin layer of skin on your signifigant other's face burn off. And you watch their jaw detatch. Its too horrible. Everything goes black.
You wake up in the sand. Its night now...you hear the waves of the ocean. "Oh my god. Oh my god. Where am I? Was that a dream? Am I dead? Is this heaven? Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh shit." You start to sob.
A warm hand reaches out to comfort you. Its the most reupulsive person you know. The worst human being in your tiny little world. But they're not anymore. They're alive. You're alive. And they understand what you just went through, because they're there. And they're crying too. You just lie there and hold eachother, crying without words. You smell them. A few hours ago, that repulsive smell (For me, its a combination cheetos, Axe/Victoria's Secret body spray, and genital sweat.) would have made you dry heave. But its comforting, it smells like life.
So, you guys are there together. Do you fuck?
Come on, in times of trauma, all common sense flies out the window. If you don't fuck them right there and then, you'd fuck them after a few days of not getting rescued. And its just you guys on this island. There arn't any savage cannibal darkies, like in racist fucking Blue Lagoon. Theres not really much to do. After a while, you probably give up on surviving and just fuck them.
Thinking about the most horrible person I know, I gotta admit that I'd tap that after two weeks of island dullness.
I had this weird daydream....The plane crashes. I smell burning flesh. Some of it is mine. My cheeks are hot from blood, smoke, tears, and sheer fear. I somehow get out of the plane okay, manage to pass out on the sand, and wake up with everyone dead except for this guy, who is conked out, still breathing, beside me:
(He's a caption from my Health textbook. Supposed to be overdosed. Low def...I think he's cute. Shows what I do in Health class, get stupidass daydreams when I'm supposed to be getting scared off of doing drugs....)
His name is Todd and he's a total dooshbag. He's in this stupid little band that variates between classic rock and hard punk. Neither of us know this, but he recently contracted HIV from a dirty heroin needle.
Needless to say, we do some shit, end up dying, and the buzzards get our bodies before our families get the chance to miss us.
It doesn't really make much sense but thats my fucking daydream.
And thats my fucking life.