the Banality of Evil

I don't wanna get up! I would very much so like to enthusiastically sit perfectly still in my bedroom everyday. It's because life is full of regret for me. I haven't yet moved to enact any of the numerous things that would have me appalled but the thoughts are there and in my world it is as if I have done all those things and more. I've daydreamed of convincing widows to sleep with me on their late husband's graves. I've kicked the leaders of Peru in the shin so hard that they just looked over at me and said "Why?" I've publicly challenged the greatest runners to their signature events and lost, only to endure the humiliation for eternity. I've defaced beautiful art in rage and jealousy after an admirer who I in turn admired, made statements in awe. I have stolen girls from dear friends, spit on the grandmother's of war victims, cut of the pink toes of dogs, swindled the blind and most atrociously purposefully conveyed unrequited love for an ego boost. I'm the swine of my own earth and I dare not cast that upon the world. The world has done nothing to me, given nothing to me, and taken only age. All the things I regret, I regret because given the chance, I would have everyone do them. I would live in a world where my regret dissipated under the banality of the order. I would have the Banality of Evil.

Got this game. Bored of this game.

Sooooo bored. Okay, so I made this game a couple of years ago. It was fun at first, but to be honest most things are when they're first starrted. Sewing my little monstrosities together and making them interact was literally the definition of fun. But hear me out, every little part of this game is just boring now. The players do the same things, i'm expected to do the same things. Dammit. I don't wanna do the same things and when I don't do the same things my play things claim that i'm not playing.
The little fucks say "God!Why were you so vicious in the old testament" and I just get sort of quite until someone defends me. I used to like to play the game a certain way, but now I just like to pick it up every now and then and do something without so much zeal and clamorous dominance. I just don't really care that much any more. The game goes on without me and i'm completely okay with that. I'm thinking about making another game, but I don't want those characters to turn into douchebags too. Fuck it i'm getting rid of this game. I'm fucking God after all, right?
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Rat Babies

"Rat Babies" was the only thing he'd ever say to anyone online. He was a weird fucking guy. He's the type of guy that would Facebook chat his ex-girlfriend from 4 year's ago's best friend at 2:34 A.M and just write "RAT BABIES!"

I have no idea what he's up to these days.

spare tire?

Okay so I admit it! I'm flirting with her. For christ' sake, how can you crucify a man who has done no wrong? I can't help this. This isn't necessaarily my normal behavior but i'm not normally this attracted to anyone.
Maybe the interest has always been there.If that were the case would my actions be any less wrong? I just need to know because the last thing I need is a lecture, a discourse, a talking to on the evil of deeds. The evil isn't even there!
Heck maybe i've assumed to much. I mean maybe i'm just assuming that you're judging me. But by this point you have to be wagging your goddamn finger. I can't escape my own judgment right now. At least spare me yours.

There was some Rat Poison in the East Wing. Wabash.

Cadillac King

What would you do if you woke up and were in the trunk of a car? I hope you wouldn't do what I do. When I wake up in the trunk of a car, i feel at ease. It's a place for rest. There's no sense in struggling, Cornell's 'College of Engineering' really knows what it's doin'. I like Cadillacs– but I especially love their owners. The trunk of a cadillac is so spacious, I can't help but believe they did it just for me. I am in every Mafia movie ever made, and I was born to be a wise guy. I was made to be cheap– to never pay up. It's all for you, i did it for you. Otherwise, I wouldn't be the Cadillac King.

The birthday boy (Infinity Boy)

There he was, sitting alone in his room, playing with a few toys he got a couple of years ago from the neighbors during Christmas. It was his birthday today. Teladon celebrated it every year. As usual, Teladon sat with his toy truck going back and forth and his plane a few feet away lying on the ground, yearning to be played with. The start to a good,although typical, evening. The room was dimly lit, so as he spoke to his figurines he had to strain to follow their still and cold blue and brown eyes. They watched him clearly. Whispering phantasmal delights into the ears of the willing still borns, he launched into his night of bliss. This was his debauchery. Though it may seem tame and it may seem boring, this was what he did. This was his night, not only on this night, but every night and better yet on every day. He was perpetually staring into the eyes of his figurines in a dimly lit room, alone, with all those who cared. Alone with the cold shiny plastic of friends and foes, here he was living a life of adventure. Living.


Everyone had long since forgotten today was a day. Everyone else forgot today was a day for Teladon. Teladon was turning infinity this year and it was an especially important day. Being such an important day, he needed to live it as best he could.
He did so alone. He did so without imposing his existence’s idea onto the living, who glossily continued life. It would be unfair to expect them to remember. Teladon was infinity now. No one would ever need to remember his birthday again. The 7 inch figurine’s plastic gaze, transfixed, was enough to satisfy his wants. The airplane a few feet away sat ever motionless, waiting to be played with.