Hell’s Cinderella

It isn’t that I don’t love them. I do love them, I’m just tired of seeing everyone else have everything I want. I’m like the Cinderella of Hell. “Always the bridesmaid, never the bride.” God curse the United States of America. Now, why would I say that? Well, as Julie Andrews said, “Let’s start at the very beginning, a very good place to start”, but which beginning? Where? When? And why me?

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I was born in George, Washington in October 15, 1974 and . . . Oh, boy. You’re already confused and I haven’t gotten to the confusing part yet. Yes, George Washington was the first president of this shit hole country and the only president to not live in the Whitehouse, since it wasn’t built yet. But, in the state of Washington, there’s a city named George. Don’t know why they named it George, suppose it was in honor of the first President, but everyone’s confused by this. The government of Washington should change this, there have been multiple bills to change this, but it hasn’t changed.

Anyway, I got a birth certificate. Sorry, the hospital gave my parents a certificate of live birth. Wonder what the hospital does with stillborns; write a certificate of live birth and certificate of death and put them both in the same fucking folder? I’m off topic again. So, I was born and that’s why I’m on Earth. I didn’t apport onto Earth or come here from another planet, though that would explain a lot. Or maybe alien colors are out our range of vision of colors. Anyway, I was born with a disability called משפט. I’m one of the few Americans to develop this disease. There’s no cure for it yet and since there isn’t any money in it, since I’m one of the only ones to have it, it doesn’t look like there’s going to be any time soon. God curse America.

But, this is going too far forward? I haven’t explained legal guardianship, which is the modern word for slavery or sharecropping, which is slavery. Wait a minute, sorry. I forgot the bullshit which supposed to come at the beginning of the story or conversation or conversation story. Not sure what thus writing is yet It’s a converstory. Why not? “

And the Band Played On” is a journalist novel, so why not a story conversation or storystation. Which do you think sounds better: converstory or storystation?

Good morning (is it still morning). How are you? Ok. Would you like some hot cola? No, not hot coffee, hot cola. I figured that. How old are you? Sorry. You’re right. It isn’t any of my fucking business. Would you like a warm beer to calm you down? We can always microwave it if it’s too cold for you. Ok. Just don’t say I wasn’t hospitable. What’s your name? Hi 这几个My name is יחנה. You can’t pronounce that in English or Chinese. I forgot to ask are you married? Are you happy about that? And what do you do for a living? Oh, yea, you did already answer that. Ok. What do you want to talk about? Uh-huh. Yeah. I can relate to that. You have children? Oh, I forgot.

Are you invited when people have dances or parties or the cool kids do whatever the cool kids do? What do the cool kids do other than make fun of me and kick my ass? What TV shows do they talk about and what channel are they on and when is it on ? See, a lot of losers are smart and win contests. The cool kids play sports and get awards. One time I won second place in Greco wrestling, but that’s because there were only two contestants and I was one of them. I always get silver when there’s two people competing.

No one wants to date me or go to dances either. Remember the folklore or Aladdin. What would your three wishes be? Right. Everyone wishes for that but remember, every wish has a catch. Always read the Genie’s fine print. Yes, I know they didn’t have printers back then. I feel like George Murphy sometimes. He lost to Hubert and Lehrer as Vice President of this fucked up country. Right I did say that. I forgot

See the judge never asked me or my lawyer if anyone threatened me to sign the contact and there’s this thing called lawyer client confidentiality or maybe doctor patient confidentiality or patient lawyer confidentiality or something like that but I wanted her to tell the judge but I didn’t tell the attorney that. Wonder why not. I must be disabled because I didn’t think of that.

But what about that bullshit they make us say in the morning? Yes you do, like at school and boy scouts and other organizations. You weren’t in boy scouts? Yes you were. You’ve been to our house several times selling anchovy flavored Boy Scout cookies? What am I talking about? Wait, maybe that wasn’t you. They looked like you. You’re married though with a house, 2 cars, kids, the American dream, right? What’s it like? I can’t have that since Uncle Sam put me in second place. “For the land of the fees and the home of the slave.”

Yeah, they’re crossing the border the border because smugglers sold them lies. You can get on disability and go anywhere you want and have friends and you can go anywhere and achieve the American dream. I got the American dream and it’s a nightmare. Appeal? Yes, I know that but I can’t make my own money so if I win, I’m homeless and hungry again and if I lose, the guardians will throw away everything I own and make me a wad Ten of the state. Best case scenario is there’s another random shooting and I’m dead.

Wait, I don’t want to go back there. I hate that place. They make me give them my shoelaces, my bra, and won’t let me shave. I’m fine. I was kidding. I don’t want to kill myself or go back to the looney bin.