My dad was right because when one is good there is no rewards for being so. Only the beasts and the bad are rewarded. The rich are playing monopoly and they are into sorting themselves out. It is us the poor the damned who make the waves who make them who matter to us prosper. Why should dad be right because I know he is. I know because of what had happened to me.
I'm not strong as I thought there is something flimsy about me. I am almost falling down as I speak there is something flimsy about me.
I did not want to push it too far there is too much going wrong that is me. I do not know what to do what to say there is a hysteria inside me seeking sanity. When the flimsy walls crumbled I swore and cursed again. My brother is fucking that bitches daughter. I dislike my brother so why is he fucking the daughter of my enemy?
Kess has nothing to do with me. She tried to steal something and did. Why is Kess important? Mother's daughter the same type married to the same psycho type. There is serenity inside me because I am being treated rather well. In fact this year I have been banned twice or three times robbed twice so that makes her day. That Jane has a lot to lose if I do not give her the treats which the lower classes do. Enjoyments of the parade. They love to see us all fail.
We all fail in life at some point. It has to happen because that is what makes us human. If humans did not fail and fall they would think they not destructive and self importance can become not a thing to make for the selfless.
We now in the first bout of psychological war fares, We now no more the joyous the clowns have fallen. The earth has gone and we almost extinct with the flu. We pretend we are here and there eventually going to the moon. Why is there somehow this anger within us all when it erupts and the heiress being fucked like mad has got madder and meaner as if her stays have become loosen by something other than love?
"It is the aristocrats who make through the arts. Their grammar is perfection and their accents are pure." said the editor in chief something holy comes into its own.
"What is the point of beavering on when there is no reward when all the doors are locked?"
"When they were doing bad the gates to the town had done him down. So they gave them the key to their happiness. He most pleased in fact they made it through the rides and rode again."
"I almost feel bereft."
"Yes that is when he left."
"I am now having the leavings of hers?"
"I have never been given a key to some town."
I was thinking she rich and I poor yet she says she wants what I have what if she gives up everything to be me. I will see to it I can get what is hers. If she so much wants to be me she can become me than I can become her. Forever. I can become mean and conceited and all that I might not be as beautiful but I can write and cook a bit. So there why she want to be me?
"Well you are not her."
"Well that is important to know why she eating out of my house than?"
"I know my place why doesn't she know hers?"
"Because she likes to swap around."
"It is no use it is being dullard."
"I as the crowned head of the thinkers."
"The do goods."
"The fucking world is mine."
"Well so it should be show her the key."
"When she can carry him or her round and round and give them slags once and twice and all of it."
"Don't be rotten."
"I am nothing of the sort."
My dad the terrorist was always right because being good and being pure and being this woman who served in the shop and made a honest work doable was never right. What the world needs is someone like his wife. A woman of cottoned wool ears and something called so beastly self absorption. Someone who will call out for her bath and throw herself in to soak and make love stories to amuse herself with and then totally in some sport as she runs amok she melts into something called the clever cruelty which they are all capable of.
To turn the screw into a scrooge then to make it into art form. Why you did not sign the right form why you did not go to the right door why you did not do this and that. Fornications being the order of the sighs and the signs are we are all in the melting pot while she runs off with the prize.
Damn improper that.
Damnations she might be wrong?
"Well what the heck we know when we are so not into you."
"Nothing inside me I insist write then we will tell you what you done wrong."
"My husbands and wives."
"To think that is not excess?"
"Why we only live once."
"We are now not sorry that the heroine in your story is not kidnapped."
"She was but she escaped and that Prince went on a wild goose chase."
I am so sorry much too sorry.
"Well it is not right you being critical of me,"
"I was only saying."
"How dare you be critical of my story."
"Well the thing is?"
"Not another word."
"Closed chapter closure the story is now ended."
"Having sorted everyone out she sat down to write her own beastly tales."
"When they are here and there and everywhere people become terrorist in order to deal with these monstrosities."
"We are not monsters."
"Well I do."