Aaaaah, yes, my bright orange ski mask feels so good on my face, especially when I wear it outside when it is cold. It makes my head feel like the burning, nurturing warm summer sun in the midst of such depressingly frigid winter temperatures. I stare at the bright white snow through the ski mask's eyes and it is like a piercing, hot laser shoots from my pupils as the snow all around melts when I approach it, leaving me a clear pathway from which to walk into this disheartening milieu of madness, this orange ski mask over my face and this rotting, sacred plate of spaghetti in my hand. Rays of sunlight shoot outward from the plate of spaghetti and I realize I must not only wear my heart on my sleeve-- I must also wear my clean, white underwear over my pants!
It takes courage to do what I do. I takes a lot of valor to walk about with one's underwear placed over their pants. The spaghetti on my plate is about two weeks old. I don't know, sometimes I just let it sit around awhile to keep me company. It is made with a mixture of angel hair spaghetti and mostaccioli. When I made it I didn't have any pasta sauce, per se, but I did have a packet of taco seasoning which I used to flavor the ground beef, so in a sense this is actually Mexican Spaghetti. LOL!! As you can see, whenever I fork a few of the mostaccioli they strangely have this magnetic pull toward my private parts instead of my mouth. To me, this further emphasizes the importance between the relationship of my need to fuck hairy tacos and my desire to eat. I have been doing both for so long that the wires have become entwined. This howling dualistic desire has now gone full circle as I bite my own wolfen tail, feeling a need to stuff food down my pants whenever I see a hairy vagina, or fondle my wolfen cock as I walk by McDonald's to see people coming out with those new "McSnack Wraps"; the very thought of them makes me roll my eyes and walk a few extra blocks to Taco Bell.
Hahaha, one of my neighbors, Daniel, recently died. He was some dude in his early/mid 40's. He always bummed cigarettes off of me whenever I went outside my apartment complex to smoke. It is funny because I was actually outside smoking when I saw the ambulance pull up. They rushed into the building and about an hour later the paramedics came out wheeling my dead neighbor on a stretcher. I guess he just had some sort of seizure or something. I was sort of sad and shocked. I didn't know the guy real well. He was okay, I guess. It was annoying having to give him cigarettes all the time but I guess I won't have to do that anymore, will I? I talked to another neighbor of mine a day or two later and he was mad that Daniel died because he'd let him borrow some movies that he'd rented from the library. The movies were now stuck in dead Daniel's apartment, accruing higher and higher late fees. My neighbor talked to the rental company about his problem and they told him to leave a note on the door for Daniel's family so, as they packed away their son's belongings, they could take the library movies down the hall to him. LOL! Yeah, leave a fucking note on the door saying, "Sorry your son is dead, but can I have those library movies I let him borrow?" Hahahahaaa. Anybody who lets someone borrow shit that they, in turn, have BoRRoWeD from the library is an idiot, anyway, and I refuse to let bum cigarettes from me, wear my orange ski mask, or invite them over for a Mexican spaghetti dinner.
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