Change of Pace

Gary is saying hello. What a little beaten puppy he is. He wants to say more, but I keep walking, keeping him down as the young girls will tell me to say please at the end of my commands.

Such a useless word… A waste of my breath, a weakening of the truth. False gratitude. Disgusting.

I haven’t been here for you. This is what happens at the end of a book, the end of an event, a change of scenery, a change of pace. I’ve got to lighten up. That’s what they say, as if I don’t have to hold the darkness because that’s where we stand, today, tomorrow, what has come yesterday, and I know that you’re still listening.

I was shot, in the arm, the right arm. They told me to take it in the dominant arm so that the medicine would spread as quickly as possible. Got to get it. If the baby gets the flu, I don’t know what I’ll do. Or strep throat. RVS. There is so much sickness. She might even be retarded. I might have slammed her onto the changing table too forcefully. I’ve never hit her, but on the back, where she really seems to like it, and good god if they don’t need it, babies, I mean. They’ve got gas. I think that she’s got heartburn. I’ve got it. I eat a spicy ramen before bed and I wake up with throw up in my hair. She’s always got it. Just milk though, whatever it is that Musette eats, digested white chunky bits. That which ruins all of my outfits. We’ve got to do the wash so much more often now, well, I mean, Musette does, because she stays home while I go to work, and I take full advantage of that. It will come back and bite me in the butt if I’m not careful.

The ship that I am on, sinking into the big league now. Our insurance is going down to seventy five percent. That’s what the boss says. At the end of the year. The accountant will talk to us about exactly how much we are costing the store. Salary is the biggest expense, and I’ve got two dependents. How much am I bringing in compared to how much are they dishing out for me? I’ve got to be the first one they throw. We’ve got the accountant: you know that’s what I call her, but there is another one above her, and he hasn’t been paid in three weeks.

The two of them were talking in the back, and they kicked Estelle out. Made her come up front and tell me about it.

Fire your bosses, that’s what the wall out front says. Save yourself, that’s what my dad always told me. Gotta craft cannonballs for my own ship. Discarded shells, melted down, doubling firepower, taking down some real heavy hitters, gathering the audience. I’ve got to gather the audience. I’m thirteen. Tell me that someone is sharing me. I’ve got to make mark. I’ve got to build worship. I need power. The ship is going down. I am the only income. I don’t want to drive Uber. I need to write. I can’t write and drive. I can’t write and play video games. I can’t write and feed the baby, burp her, entertain her. On an on, smack upon smack. I mean, I can’t write at work. I don’t want to work. I want my job to be an office. I want to write while at work. I want to push things in the direction that I want to go in. Eight hours, nine actually when you include my unpaid lunch.

Musette wants me to ask for a raise when they are looking to take away our insurance. I haven’t told her yet. I don’t want her to have to go back. This baby needs to grow as best as possible. I’m wrecking her brain with the video game. She sits on my lap and stares at the screen. I can’t stop. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just can’t stop, and I wish that you would go to sleep so that I could put my headphones in, and here is your pacifier. I know that you just woke up. Just take it. I won’t take it out. I’m stronger than you. Suck it, bitch. Suck it, baby. I don’t have time for this… Video games are work. Writing is work. Everything is writing. Video games are writing. I am a video game writer. Buy Destiny 2. Play with me. Let’s go on quests together. We can talk over the radio. Writing with the voice. Somebody is recording it. We can stream. People can watch us. Just like Atticus. It is our destiny. Destiny. This is where we’re at. This is the future. The air before the blade. Currentivism. The gamification of writing. Gaming and having fun. Nobody’s construct but our own. Don’t you see? I’m a hunter, and you are a titan, or are you a warlock? Log on, and we’ll see. All of you. Let’s kick some butt. Let’s make the guns actually look like guns. Let’s really blow some minds.

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