kevinhog
I actually feel like I may be losing my mind. A lot of people say this and I have said it many times before but, this time, I’m putting it in writing and I think, actually …that I might be losing my fucking mind. The slightest ability like knowing what is real seems to be getting more and more difficult. There is a pressure on the mousetrap that has become my spiraling brain and there are big smelly, hairy, rats that have crawled out of the cesspool, sniffing and nibbling at the cheese. The spring is dying to fly loose, to do the thing it was designed to do and release its pressure. As soon as the cheese that is carved in the shape of you is tampered with in a negligent way.
When it snaps I’m afraid I can’t be held completely responsible for the outcome. If I don’t kill some rats I will, at least, make them feel some of the pain that caused that fucking trap to be built in the first place and the cheese….hey fuck that cheese, it shouldn’t have been fucking around in the trap in the first place. So if you have some way to make those god damn rats crawl back into the gutter from whence they came, now would be a most excellent time to make that happen.
Maybe then I can attempt to carefully disassemble the mechanism that makes the trap work. To tickle the cheese free from the latch and get a grasp of the arm so I can slowly, gently, kindly, with great care and strength take the pressure off the spring so that I can render it un-armed. Then and only then is it going to be possible to consider the possibility of deconstructing the trap altogether. Unless of course, you crawl your cheesy ass back into the middle off that motherfucker again before I can get it disarmed, then all bets are off!
So in the best interest of everybody involved I think I will just go to Taco Bell and perhaps I can bury the trap beneath the wreckage of innocent cows and eventually the spring will be held at bay by the weight of that which can fill the empty hole where the trap resides….perhaps