Opting Out

typical mike g story


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Opting Out
Seeing red because I’m angry. Seeing red because I’m in a womb again. I begged the Soul Guardians to not hurl be back into this Hell. Nirvana I had earned through countless rounds of suffering. I didn’t achieve enlightenment like that bitch Buddha. Enlightenment is a hypothetical cum-shot self-proclaimed by pussies. I argued with those amorphous blobs, I argued with those fuckers, Soul Guardians--if you give a fuck about my soul let it be extinguished--if you want to guard something, guard the goddamn smoking ember that was my light, guard the smoke that was a soul and do not let it ignite again. I made my best argument. I caused the pussy lips of God to tremble (sound of finger to mouth bluh-bluh-bluh-bluhing!) So many thousands of rounds of suffering I was a fuckin’ Magi, been to Bethlehem and back bearing treasures, a cut tongue, a mutilated dick for what?--pursuing a fuckin’ star, a fuckin’ cartoon deity, money, poetry--all roads lead to suffering--I told those pudding-brained cunts that I didn’t need to learn any more shit about being human. Fuck your Earth! your Greenpeace! your C- film project Cosmos! Which one of you pussies is the C- Word?! In the beginning was the Word and the Word was C-! I might’ve been an asshole for 10 thousand incarnations but at least I was an A+ asshole!
So fine bitches. You wanna punish me? Put me in a womb? I’ll just have to figure a way out of this mess, won’t I? won’t I! I’ve been talkin’ to people! (whisper) Others have done it, opted out, they call it miscarriage, and if it takes a little longer to learn they call it crib death. Nice fuckin’ food-pump you got hooked up to my navel. Mommy flows in like a nicotine patch flows in. Nourished against my will. I’ll piss on your face. Everything’s analogous C-! You couldn’t do a better job? Fuckin’ idiot God. What a clown! Did you sleep in God-class? Creator 101? Well let me tell you God--you are mocked by your entire creation--how does that taste?! How big you are that most are too fucked up to challenge you--C-!
Goddamnit, I can’t figure it out, I’m about to be born, I’m about to become an I, and I is the problem, the whole nightmare of history bullshit, the I, the lust of the dumb senses--feed me! fuck me! hear me! see me! accept me!--how pathetic! I’ve known so many pathetic bitches, I’ve been pathetic so many times in this C- paradigm! Gotta pick friends who are less, gotta pick friends who tell me their troubles, pussy-ass friends--lesser! lesser!--and sometimes just for kicks I’ll be less, I will need, I will play all the roles in all codependent dramas. How sick it is! Ten million friends I’ve had. Ten million simple machines! Cunts! Dicks! That’s all relationships are folks!
I can’t damn the placental nourishment. I’m being pinched into being, another locus of suffering about to burst pink and ugly into this world-wind. C-! I’m being born. I’ve been born. I have a cunt. I’m a girl. What now? I hate my baby blanket because I need my baby blanket. Mommy, mommy, tit-milk like crack. C- analogies proceed through my being. Mommy sings them to me. Mommy sings such stupid shit like all mommies: when the bough breaks the cradle will fall . . . It’s not that mommies are bad, it’s just that mommies are God, transferring all the death-trips of the culture to us--and down will fall baby cradle and all. You poor pathetic woman, you poor pathetic woman. Mommy? Kill me! Goddamnit, if you learn one goddamn thing with your fleeting precious time here, please learn to kill your baby! 2+2 is 4. Kill your baby! Hush little baby don’t you cry . . . So be it retard! Spread your legs to make a suffering thing! How dare you be so stupid and cruel! You did not learn from your suffering, mommy? Did you forget that your daddy stuck his pinky in? My daddy picks the lint off my blanket, my little blue blanket. He kisses me and tickles my little girl cheeks with his manly face-hair. If I grow up, if I grow up, I’m gonna fuck somebody like daddy. I’ll spread my legs like mommy. I’ll let everything in, but unlike you mommy I’ll kill what comes out like you should’ve done.
Rocking on my haunches, soon I’ll be crawling. Soon I’ll be walking and babbling stupid duh duhs and muh muhs, and become a sweet little caged parrot. Maybe I could bite back like a parrot, but I fear that mommy and daddy are old school when it comes to discipline. I might forget all this and become stupid after the beatings and threats to behave or else. I might forget all this, grow nice tits, become a Barbie, get the guys to like me. I might forget all this and become a great poet and get the guys to like me. Why couldn’t death be the end? Why can’t energy die and stay dead? Whose dick do I have to suck to insure oblivion’s permanence?
Grey light leaks despair through the window blinds. The need to escape this nightmare aches in groin, in navel, in heart, in forehead. It is winter, my first winter, but the intimation is that it’s been winter forever and always will be. Cold draft on little toes. I’m getting sleepy. I’m weeping silently from my eye slits. I think of mommy and daddy and say bye bye. I would like to see the sun a final time. I would like to feel her amorous heat on my face and feel glad. Ad-libbing songbirds bid their adieus. My eyes close but I can still see a pink film. That is life, a pink film panorama upon which all the drama and teeth, fire and pain pour forth. But my prayer has yielded a secret. I fill the pink film with black Rorschachs. Last time I loved three women. Bye bye Julie, Sarah, Robyn. We gave the best we could of what we had. I stop my breathing. Yes! My tiny pink fist trembles triumphant. My will, fierce and black, devours the pink. May I not return to the chain or the wheel. May the sweat and the blood bind me no more to this C- bullshit. May I, bye bye. . .