Recollection Hazy…Got Kids Have Married.

Beelzebub walks between the gates of Hell and his bedroom. As the fires of hell burn continuously he asks all newcomers ‘Got a light?’

I have four kids. Hunger. Lust. Thirst and Thirst (twins)

They don’t need school. They need food, sex, culture and alcohol.

They say ‘He just won’t connect with society now he has had a taste of the other. He thinks all good stems from there. I might as well be juggling frogs spawn. ‘

You are mighty right. That would be a sight. Juggling Frog Spawn!

Hey. My name is Andy. Alrighty!

Hey! Don’t go I want to share something with you…my sorrow.

I saw a bluebell blissfully pure have stick will ring!

What’s your number?

I saw a meadow swaying in the breeze.

What’s your bra size?

I saw stalks of golden corn shining brightly.

What’s your dress size? How old are you?

Are you confused yet? Are we met?

Are you a virgin? I am sorry I will retract that question.

Do you want to be a virgin? I am sorry I will retract that question.

Are you still a virgin?

How Old are you?

Sixteen?

You’re too old to be a virgin!

I’m sorry I will retract that.

I don’t know what’s funny except what hurts. Do I hurt you?

I am sorry if I hurt you. OK!

Did I hurt you? Are you a fucking mess? Do you fuck corpses? Are you a corpse? Are you married to and fucking a corpse?

Sorry did I upset you?

Do you want to hurt me? In retaliation?

Do you want to make me cry?

And drop me in a cauldron of melted steel?

Have I kept it up long enough? Do you remember my name?

It is creepypasta.

I like kids. Think their great little people, our future, our promise.l just don’t have any. Fine. Fine.

Fine.

What’s fine is not fulfilling your biological destiny. That is your choice. It’s exciting. All that free time to play Nintendo and take up new and interesting hobbies or careers.

Just don’t expect us to find it interesting, or remotely fascinating because nothing is more interesting, fascinating, exciting, scary, or satisfying as having a kid. Right?

Well ,actually. I am the exception to the rule. One. I have no kids. Two. I do not want to have kids. Three. I find life as it finds me. Different every day and full of little problems and surprises, rewards and detentions, laugh and cry, do or die, takeaway and a bottle of wine.

I have no kids. How can I know what it’s like?  It is bigger than you and bigger than me. We both have it. How can this be?

I get scared easily. I could never be relied upon to change diapers. I get confused easily. I could never help the kids with their homework and hold down a job at the same time.

I did babysitting as a child. Of babies. Who didn’t cry? Or not very loudly. Anyway, I just watched TV.

Now I am older I find the idea less satisfying. What? it cried. Would have to hold it?

Thankfully married people never come anywhere near me except if its family. So my life is carefree.

It is possible I have found to cut yourself off like drawing a line around yourself from society. It doesn’t stop the bad stuff getting through, though. You might as well just hang up a sign saying ‘Open 24 hours’ and see what happens.

You will get the Odd caller to your door. See I capitalised Odd. You will get bored. You will get lonesome. But you will never think of having kids. Unless it is to save your marriage.

And you who have kids know All about my life, don’t you? It’s like when you were single. Right? Nothing to do. No comfort. No vision. No clue? Of course, that’s what I’d think If I were you.

But you are forgetting the giving and the taking. The smiles and handshaking. The promises and resolutions. The nights spent alone in my bedroom. Working at making something new. Something of me but separate. Something that could stand alone that you could look at and think. That’s funny, or that’s just like me! And it might make you feel that little less lonely or fuzzy inside. That’s what drove me through the hours alone years ago just me a biro and a notebook. I did not have a clue. I just filled the notebook with dudles and writing and then forgot about it.

Until some time later I found it and poured scorn over it like it was the work of the devil himself looking for ways to punish cretins who deserved it. I’d then shred it and throw it away. Only now can I see I am not creating any new hells for me or you. I don’t see. I feel. And I feel like I am trapped under ice, just like in that Metallica song. And it’s where I live with my little barbeque. and colouring paints. Where I can be me and dare to dream and believe in myself again. But for real I have known others like this too and they weren’t crazy. They were just like me or you.

I surface. I breathe. I think I believe. That you are coming back to me to find me in this state and to shower me with your kisses saying ‘I did not know. I did not know.’ and that’s where it ends us parting holding hands looking at each other like we believe in happiness, in sex, in each other being real. And we want to love being with each other so we think of games we like to play and do in a day. And the day we spent might not turn out that way but it was ours like kids at play. We will have our day.

But not under the ice please. We might drown.

Thank-you.

Goodnight.

 

 

 

Published by Andrew Mark Watkins

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