I went to a Chrismas party last week. It was January 27. It was at a party for a trendy restaurant at a trendy restaurant in a trendy town. When I walked in I realized that everyone in the room was trendier than me. They were pretentious, knew all the hot spots, listened to all the right bands, read books and never, ever watched TV. I hated them all instantly.
This is not turning into some "Oh look at my day, I'm so cynical and cleaver." That would be bullshit. We are about ideas here at A.B.S.
At this party, there was a young lady named Kaylan. I have a fairly unusual name, Kaylon, like Waylon with a "K". I have not, until yesterday, knowingly been in a room with another person with a phonetically identical name. I was odd and uncomfortable.
So I killed her.
It was my only option really. I slit her throat in the bathroom and licked blood off the floor. She misspelled my name and destroyed my illusion of individuilaity and uniqueness in the world. Her death restored that. The blood licking, I admit, is a bit odd, but I felt like the Highlander after I killed her. The lightning shooting from no where really made me feel like a part of the McCloud clan.
Once my hair stopped smoking, I left the January Christmas and all was again right with the world. You can believe all or none of this.
But she misspelled my name.
She had it coming.
K. Tuttle
2 comments:
How could you stand for the perversion of the perversion of Waylon Jennings' name!?
I hope you sat in her blood like a baby sits in the mud and played in it. . .
I sat next to a girl named Kevin in Archaeology class. She was better looking and smarter than me.
KevinT
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