Fucked

Fuck!   Fuck, fuck, fuck!   I know it’s not going to help anything.   About four more hours is what would help me.  Fuck!!   Go over the “P & S”?   Why?   It won’t make a goddamn bit of difference.  We’re totally fucked, motherfucker.   Fuck!  

    Swearing won’t help anything?  Nothing will help anything.   It’s like saying to the Jews in the Holocaust to pray for God to save them before they walk into the goddamn gas chambers;   It won’t change anything.   Breathe?   Take deep breaths   I don’t have time to breathe.   Do you speak English?   I’m fucked.  Totally fucked.  How do I eat an elephant?   Why you getting personal with me?   I prefer elephants air fried.   You got to bleed and skin ‘em first.  Goddamn Republicans.   They taste like pork.   Son-of-a-bitch.   Got to focus.   Eh, fuck focus.   We’re totally fucked!!!!  

      What do I think will happen if I don’t get everything done?   Hell, in fifteen minutes, we’ll find out.   I don’t want to breathe.   Bet God’s going to answer those prayers soon, right?   All those years of school for nothing.   

      Think happy thoughts?   Breathe deeply.    Right, gotta breathe in the arson. Great!!    The serenity prayer?   God doesn’t need to grant me shit.   Hey, God.   Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Damn, sir, could you please slow the rotation of this piece of shit planet forever, so I can get what the fuck done that I need to get done today?   Thanks, asshole!   What has God done.   Think about all the kids who have cancer in the . . . Fuck.   Time crunch.   Gotta focus.   Get all this bullshit done before we run outta time.  Son-of-a-bitch.   Maybe if I do the shit I need to do in half time like in the marching band.  

      Do everything, now!!   Listen to me, everything’s a priority.   Everything is A1.   Not the meat sauce, A top priority, B next priority, C if I have time.   A1 first task.   Everything is is first priority.   Everything motherfucker.   K.I.S.S.   It was a shitty band from the 1980’s.   I wouldn’t want to listen to them even if . . . I’m getting distracted again.   You got a cigarette?   Yeah, well it wouldn’t hurt anything either.   You son-of-a-bitch.   Yeah, well not swearing doesn’t help either.   Yes, I know we’ve been working together for four years.   What is the most important thing I’ve learned?   To not waste time on bullshit like the question you just asked me.   I just told you about priorities.   Slow and steady?   I’d like to see the goddamn tortoise in my shoes.   Or better yet, in my stomach.   Had meds at some point, for anxiety.  Prn, MID, BID, TID, QID, then I started popping them like an addiction.    Then?   Then, the bastards discontinued my meds and I got DT.  Bastards.   Fuck, distraction again.   Can’t talk to you.  Gotta go in half half time.   Be like a machine in a factory working 24/7.   

     I already know that.   Shut up.  Asshole.   If you have a better . . . I know you have.   I know we have, but . . . Yes, I remember the book “Do it, let’s get off our buts” or whatever that fucking book was called.   It helped, but there’s no transference for me.   Need to focus or fuck us . . . Shut up.  Let me work as fast as I can.   I can’t.  Everyone’s going to hate me.   Motherfucker.  

     No, I know.   You don’t know.  Can’t understand.   The voices are back.  Motherfucker.   Too many voices at one time.   Tell them to take a number?   You mean like at the meat market?   You’re an idiot.   “One Big Mob:   I am you are me”.   That doesn’t make sense?   Are you the shrink?   You’re the shrink or I’m the shrink?   Both of us are or aren’t.   We’re running out of time.  Oh, yea, I’m running out of time.   You’re fine:   Fucked-up, insecure, neurotic, excitable.   “I’m fine.  It’s fine.  Everything’s fucking Fine.”   The square root of negative four.   I don’t know.  

      I know that’s not where I am.  How do I know.   Look at my shoes, I have shoe laces.   If we were there, I couldn’t have shoelaces and you couldn’t wear a bra.   You’re not?   I don’t know, you.   You tell me why you’d be wearing a bra.    Oh, right.  

     Again, we need to fix the problem or the whole world will end.    You son-   I don’t know why a son-of-a-bitch would need a bra.   Your name.   Why would I know . . . Then I’d know if you were male or female.   Unless you had an androgynous name.   XX, XY, XXY, XYY, XXX, X0.  Y0 don’t exist.   A million dollars?   No, Y0 would just die and I’m going to have to go at the speed of light if I think I’m going to get this done.  

      Time is relative.  Hurt myself.   Hurt myself bad.    Then, time’ll slow down or maybe if I speed west and go through the time zones I can gain four or five hours, if I speed.   Goddamn cops.   License points.   Son-of.   I don’t know if you’re male or female.   What pronoun do you prefer?   Fuck your pronouns.  Fuck how you pronounce your pronouns.   I’m starting to feel like someone with tarets.  How fast can your car go?   That’s twenty miles per hour faster than mine.   I’ll get in the trunk so those fuckers won’t know I’m there.  Let me know when we’re in Alaska.   Because it’s Pacific Standard Time or earlier.   Gas up using cash so the fuckers wont find us.  Okay, so the fuckers won’t find me.   Too late?   I already know that.  I’ll jump out the window onto the . . .   I’m old?  What difference does that make?   Bone breaking?   Nah, I’ll be fine.   But we have to hurry?   Run towards the roaring lion?   There are about 50 of them.   They’re smarter than the young lions.   But I’m “smarter than the average bear”.   Who would win in a fight, Yogi or Aslan?   

     Then drive.  Or maybe we could rent a helicopter or aero plane?   At 500 mph, they’d never find us.  Or maybe call NASA.  Or does Enterprise have a spaceship renting organization yet?   Son-of-a-bitch.   Not you.   You male or female?  

       Well, tell NASA to merge with Enterprise.   Assholes.   Or vice versa.  No, not the asshole part.  

    A Nickelodeon is an old juke box.  Yes, I know it’s also a TV station, look, call NASA and get me to goddamn China.   Because there it’s yesterday and I won’t be late.   Duh!! 

    Hurry.  Forget traffic and traffic laws.  That’s why we’re contacting NASA.  Unless, do you know how to reverse apport?    There is a word for it, but I forgot.  

     They’re here?   Already?   Fuck.  Goddamn it.   Motherfucker.   We have to apport, now!   I gotta try hard.  Harder.   I need to apport.  

     I did.  I tried.  I tried hard, but I couldn’t apport.   I just wound up shitting my drawers.   They came in and arrested us both.   One of them laughed at me for shitting myself.  Assholes.  If I had had eight more hours, I could’ve made it all work out, but I didn’t.   I don’t.  That’s why I’m here.   The bastards wouldn’t give me an extension.  This is no bail.   I’m totally fucked, and I don’t mean with my girlfriend.   Fuck!!!   Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!!! Damn it!!!