Jul 24, 2007

Monolgue from the New Play, "Avon Calling."

It's hard to calculate the last five minutes. Pots clanging, clothes flying, snakes writhing after being crushed by rocks. A man from the 1940's just made his video will, allowing his great-grandchild a fortune once he learns how to tie his own tie.

Boy, that History Channel-- it's the damn bee's knees. It just told me when the sun will explode and leave glimmering lights strewn about the yard for mother to clean up before starting dinner.

I wonder, at times, if the wandering mind comes across danger, or lacks the water to survive in harsh climates of the cerebral cortex.

Marinated correctly, the chicken will be filling with corn and lima beans. I won't hear otherwise. I won't. God help me, I can't.

I sat on the train alone, eating pizza at 2 in the morning. I had negative 30 dollars in my account . Wolves circled me and asked if it would be better if I moved back home. I looked at the wolves, they yawned while remaining docile. One was supine with it's neck craned to see me. I could cut their throats for ever living-- for licking their little flesh wounds in the first place.

Man, it's hot in here. Anybody need a glass of water-- four cubes. I could use one.

The wine dripped on the floor beside me. I was tired of staring at it, so I got up, walked to my bed and slept until i was no longer tired.

I am a lion with no will. I slay with no real aptitude. My muscles are lax as I devour. My jaw clicks when I roar. I think the jungle is going to fire me. I'm so tired of walking around. I think I'll just lay down here i--BEES! SWEET MERCIFUL FUCK, I'M DY

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