Luke Cm
September 1st, 2010, 10:31 PM
My first attempt at a humorous short story. Be honest, because it's probably pretty bad.
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There’s something I have to tell you. It may be the last thing I tell anyone, but I need to let it out. The feeling fills my body, and I don’t know if I’m going to cry tears, or cry out. But no matter how painful this is, it must be said.
I really hate you.
I mean, do you know how much I hate you? I only have one letter to send from hea-, I’m sorry the afterlife. See the er… dude in charge here won’t let me say where I am, or anything like that. Who does he think he is, God? Oh wait…
Anyway, I was saying how much I hate you. How even in death, I want to kill you. Whenever I would see you my hands would instinctively reach for something metal, hopefully sharp. To, you know, throw at you. I would spend my free time making up adjective to describe how disgodumb you are (that’s one of them, BTW). At least half my allowance each week would go to buying dart boards with your face on them, because I’d always burn them after a few days. Basically, look up “hatred” in the dictionary, and you’ll see me. Look up a-hole, and you’ll see your own.
Now right now you’re probably going “But I’m innocent!” with your ridiculously high voice. You may even be batting your gunk-filled eyelids, your mouth half open, looking so innocent that even unicorns would throw up from it. Well, I’ll explain why to you, in words even you would understand.
You always had it out for me. Ever since first grade when we were assigned to the same table. Then the torment began. You would casually stick crayons up my noise when the teacher wasn’t looking, filling my nostrils with colored wax. I still think my nostrils are colored “banana mania” and “fuzzy wuzzy brown” because of you.
Elementary school was ruined, because of you. My innocence was ruined, because of you. In fact, I want to attach an MP3 of “Because of You” by Kelly Clarkson just so that you’ll understand the pain I felt.
Then came middle school. Then high school. You kept harassing me like *insert funny reference here*. Did you somehow miss the class of keeping your hands to yourself? Were you raised by a pack of leeches? You’re insane. Even Dr. Phil can’t help you. Okay, so that’s not saying much but still.
What I’m trying to say is that you were a jerk to me throughout ten years of my life. And for that you get a freaky letter from a dead guy telling you you suck. Karma? Never been sweeter.
From,
You Should Know Who I Am. That would really suck if you didn’t.
P.S. I don’t even remember how I died. I think it was because of a sore throat. Or maybe to be used in a characterization exercise by a teenager. I keep mixing the two up…
---------------
There’s something I have to tell you. It may be the last thing I tell anyone, but I need to let it out. The feeling fills my body, and I don’t know if I’m going to cry tears, or cry out. But no matter how painful this is, it must be said.
I really hate you.
I mean, do you know how much I hate you? I only have one letter to send from hea-, I’m sorry the afterlife. See the er… dude in charge here won’t let me say where I am, or anything like that. Who does he think he is, God? Oh wait…
Anyway, I was saying how much I hate you. How even in death, I want to kill you. Whenever I would see you my hands would instinctively reach for something metal, hopefully sharp. To, you know, throw at you. I would spend my free time making up adjective to describe how disgodumb you are (that’s one of them, BTW). At least half my allowance each week would go to buying dart boards with your face on them, because I’d always burn them after a few days. Basically, look up “hatred” in the dictionary, and you’ll see me. Look up a-hole, and you’ll see your own.
Now right now you’re probably going “But I’m innocent!” with your ridiculously high voice. You may even be batting your gunk-filled eyelids, your mouth half open, looking so innocent that even unicorns would throw up from it. Well, I’ll explain why to you, in words even you would understand.
You always had it out for me. Ever since first grade when we were assigned to the same table. Then the torment began. You would casually stick crayons up my noise when the teacher wasn’t looking, filling my nostrils with colored wax. I still think my nostrils are colored “banana mania” and “fuzzy wuzzy brown” because of you.
Elementary school was ruined, because of you. My innocence was ruined, because of you. In fact, I want to attach an MP3 of “Because of You” by Kelly Clarkson just so that you’ll understand the pain I felt.
Then came middle school. Then high school. You kept harassing me like *insert funny reference here*. Did you somehow miss the class of keeping your hands to yourself? Were you raised by a pack of leeches? You’re insane. Even Dr. Phil can’t help you. Okay, so that’s not saying much but still.
What I’m trying to say is that you were a jerk to me throughout ten years of my life. And for that you get a freaky letter from a dead guy telling you you suck. Karma? Never been sweeter.
From,
You Should Know Who I Am. That would really suck if you didn’t.
P.S. I don’t even remember how I died. I think it was because of a sore throat. Or maybe to be used in a characterization exercise by a teenager. I keep mixing the two up…