The Pallbearer: Where The Dead Belong Part 3

Insubordination

My father; embedded in my car.

"Associate Anderson,"

My mother; screaming when I told her.

"the West Worthington Corporation"

Noose; the first try.

"no longer has need for you."

State Hospital; rotten eggs and hangover puke.

The Pallbearer: Where The Dead Belong Part 2

The Angels

Lightning never scared me. Always loved storms as a kid. Sat out on the front porch as the rain came down. Lightning was just part of the experience. The smell of sky being ripped in half, the way your hairs leapt up on end as a bolt of pure energy drives itself into the ground. Watching storms, listening to thunder, face all lit up... Mom always said that thunder was angels bowling.

Dad landed on my car when I was 16. I was stopping by the office to bring him his lunch. He had forgotten it at home.

The Pallbearer: Where The Dead Belong Part 1

The Day After

My teeth hurt.

As I began to move, so did everywhere else. My eyes crept open like a ten-dollar drunk's.

And I saw my hands.

I didn't move after that. I (jesus my hands) hadn't seen my (where's my brute where the fuck is my brute) hands in over three weeks (yes neil, more, morrreee). My suit supplied me with everything essential (not everything hon, now come back to bed) for survival. I curled up into a ball (just fucking go!) and waited for sleep to come.