Our severed celebrities is a dream. A recurring dream I have in which I happily survey fields of dead celebrities, their veins severed and emptied of their scarlet life juice. Out it flows from the dead remains and settles under my boots, probably making them more valuable. The scene is at night, lit by a bonfire of the literature that seeks to elevate them. A bonfire I built personally as, before death found them, the crowds tearfully watched on.
OSC is a flight of fantasy, built as my blood boils at people whoring out their wedding days. “IS NOTHING SCARED ANYMORE!?!” I want to bellow into their ears. Or when certain headlines appear, “IT’S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS! THIS IS NOT IN THE PUBLIC INTEREST!” before picking up my broadsheet. When it’s the television adverts I simply switch off and sit fuming, angry at what the world has created.
And I wind up thinking about celebrities severed and smile a happy smile as people break down at the realisation that I have committed what they call genocide. “Not so special anymore?” I ask, a feeling of satisfaction in my face. I walk away proudly, knowing that I have taken away something from the dumb, knowing I have improved the entire country, having previously seen it go to the dogs.
Then I come to in the staff room to see wedding photos of people I don’t know and secrets revealed I don’t want to know and OSC remains an illegal wish.
FYI: 250 (Jumbled) Words - follow Jumbled tag for others from it, too.
OSC is a flight of fantasy, built as my blood boils at people whoring out their wedding days. “IS NOTHING SCARED ANYMORE!?!” I want to bellow into their ears. Or when certain headlines appear, “IT’S NONE OF OUR BUSINESS! THIS IS NOT IN THE PUBLIC INTEREST!” before picking up my broadsheet. When it’s the television adverts I simply switch off and sit fuming, angry at what the world has created.
And I wind up thinking about celebrities severed and smile a happy smile as people break down at the realisation that I have committed what they call genocide. “Not so special anymore?” I ask, a feeling of satisfaction in my face. I walk away proudly, knowing that I have taken away something from the dumb, knowing I have improved the entire country, having previously seen it go to the dogs.
Then I come to in the staff room to see wedding photos of people I don’t know and secrets revealed I don’t want to know and OSC remains an illegal wish.
FYI: 250 (Jumbled) Words - follow Jumbled tag for others from it, too.
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