Purgatory

Welcome! There is warm drinks and cold food in the back. We have a microwave and ice machine but no power.

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I’m done taking people’s shit.

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Crappy Pasta #1

My mom made spaghetti and meatballs for dinner this Saturday night, but when I bit into the meatballs my whole world came crashing down.

It was a regular Saturday night, I was sitting in my bedroom with my music cranked up on my headphones while the sound of unholy porn noises echoed down the hallway from my parents room. I was midway through “Eye of the Tiger” when I heard a knock on my door. “Who is it?” I asked, taking my headphones out of my ears. It was my mother, she asked me to come downstairs and clean the dishes for dinner. I sighed and got out of my bed to head downstairs.

As I came into the kitchen I saw the ingredients laid out for dinner, spaghetti and meatballs. I walked over to the sink and began washing the plates and silverware, while I did this my mom started cooking. The rich smell of spices wafted through the air as my mom started making her signature spaghetti sauce. I breathed in the symphony of scents and caught an unfamiliar smell in the mix of herbs. I shrugged it off and chalked it up to my mom changing things up a bit. After finishing up the dishes I began setting the table as my mom finished making the food and began plating it. The time had come to sit down and enjoy the food. My mouth began watering like a firehose as I stared at the glorious meal prepared before me. My father came and sat at the table followed by my mother and sister.

Once everyone was seated I began to dig in, sucking the spaghetti noodles down my esophagus with the force of a thousand Dyson’. The delicious tomato sauce and pasta combo bitch slapped my tastebuds with it’s elegant symphony of flavor. I have always enjoyed my mom’s spaghetti. Now for the moment of truth, the meatballs. The juicy, meaty balls rested atop the pasta as if they were a diamond on a silk pillow. I grabbed my fork and stuck into the meatball, then raising it to my mouth I took in it’s fragrant aroma. I stopped for a moment, something was off. This meatball smelled wrong. It didn’t smell like my mom’s usual meatballs, no it smelled different.

My mom noticed my staring and said with a smile, “I tried something a bit new, try it.” Knowing my mother has never let me down yet when it comes to her craftsmanship in the kitchen I moved my mouth to the fork and took a bite and began chewing. Instantly I froze. No. This was not a meatball. Something was very wrong, the flavor, the texture, all of it. My mom who was still watching me saw the look of horror on my face. She laughs for a moment as I spit out the disgraced ball of despair.

“Wha- what is that?!” I asked. My mom stopped laughing and looked at me with a sick and twisted grin.

“Why it’s simply a meatless meatball! It’s a vegan alternative. I’m going to start cooking healthier options for us.” She said.

“From now on we will cut meat out of our diet, we will also be eating more salad.” My father spoke, his words echoing through my mind. No meat.

“That’s right kids, our family is taking the step to go Vegan!” Said my mom with a smile. No this couldn’t be happening. My whole world was spinning, my mind was racing, my ass sweating. Why me?

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My favorite flavor bathbomb is toaster

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Nipple extensions

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Loneliness doesn’t suck because you’re alone, it sucks because you are stuck with no one but yourself. Just you and your inner voice. If you’re like me then that inner voice is equal to about a thousand nails being scraped across a chalk board while a band of deaf children attempt to play bohemian rhapsody in the middle of a thunderstorm. It’s absolute pain. The torment of being trapped with nothing but my own mind is what caused me to create this blog. So that I may share my ramblings and inner thoughts. Though no one may ever see anything I post, I can sleep semi comfortably knowing, it’s out there. And one day it may just come out and punch you in the gut. Like a bad tuna roll that sat in the sun a bit too long during that dammed family picnic you so hate because your uncle Gregothy is an absolute gossip thot who won’t shut up about his neighbor’s, cousin’s, great aunt Helga’s new succulent plant.

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I whip my vertebrae wildly through the air “Come at me ye pathetic oat! My spine crackles against the thicc earth. “I shall whomp the fear of the lord in ya.”

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His blazing orbs stabbed into the depths of my bones. I flicked his organ of sight, “No” I vomited. My skeleton was creaking in hatred. “I am NOT your easy bake oven.”

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I was playing gta, riding my motorcycle around when I saw a hooker on the street calling out and thought “Why not” So I cruised over to her only to be greeted by ‘Your car does not have enough seats’ notification. Like oh okay, I didn’t know hookers had that kind of standard. Well fuck you then. If you aren’t willing to eat my ass on a Bati 801 motorcycle going 120 mph down the city streets on a toasty Thursday night then I don’t want it.

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I licked the surface of her pineapple face with my eyes. “I don’t wanna leave the congo.” I whispered saucily into her ear hole.

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I’m not saying do drugs, but I once snorted a whole bottle of coke and ran naked in a field for 12 hours straight, and it wasn’t even name brand coke.

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Shitting is an optional human experience, ever since I drank a bottle of Flex Seal® I haven’t shit once. Go ahead and live your best life, a shit free life.

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Sometimes I look up to the sky and imagine I am a fish wishing to ascend beyond my bowl and produce from my fins, hands, so that I may bitch slap people with the might of Poseidon himself.

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Do not waste your lint, save it up so that you may feast on the forbidden cotton candy.