Travelin'
I was driving along, listening to some crazy ass music, sounded like somebody raping a keyboard, and I turned left and saw a sign that read "Hell is Real."
I looked right and the devil was sitting in my passenger seat.
"I never would have brought you on this trip if you told me Hell was Real," I told him.
"What can I say, I lie. I'm the devil," was his reply.
He reached for my throat, his red fingers fellin' for my pulse; I punched him in the balls, and swerved my car, right, into a minivan, with a family of four. A husband, a wife, a young son, and a baby seat in the minivan. As we hit the van the devil's had left my throat and I saw the woman, who was driving the van, had a damp shirt. She had shot milke out of her nipples; the husband had crapped his pants; the young boy cried out; and the baby pumped his fist, and giggled.
Not wanting to cause the family any more harm I swerved left, into a ditch. The front of my car slammed into the ground, and the car flipped end over end. I unbuckled my seatbeld to fly out of the car, away from the devil. I landed 27 feet and 3 inches away from the car. I felt like I had just been in an accident.
I looked up and saw the sun, then I felt the devils fingers on my throat.
"What the fuck were you doing,"" he said.
I was trying to escape, you said Hell was just a game," I yelled.
"It is, it's a lot of fun for me. I take out those billboards all across the country, I write stupid shit about Hell, and people think it's the Catholic Church, but it's me and that's fun," the devil said.
"So Hell is all a game, roadside advertisments," I barked, as the devil tightened his grip around my throat. "Roadside advertisments, and other things," the devil said, leaning overtop of me.
I saw his head, silloughetted, in front of the sun; his horns arching out, in perfect symmetry.
It was a fantastic view.
I was driving along, listening to some crazy ass music, sounded like somebody raping a keyboard, and I turned left and saw a sign that read "Hell is Real."
I looked right and the devil was sitting in my passenger seat.
"I never would have brought you on this trip if you told me Hell was Real," I told him.
"What can I say, I lie. I'm the devil," was his reply.
He reached for my throat, his red fingers fellin' for my pulse; I punched him in the balls, and swerved my car, right, into a minivan, with a family of four. A husband, a wife, a young son, and a baby seat in the minivan. As we hit the van the devil's had left my throat and I saw the woman, who was driving the van, had a damp shirt. She had shot milke out of her nipples; the husband had crapped his pants; the young boy cried out; and the baby pumped his fist, and giggled.
Not wanting to cause the family any more harm I swerved left, into a ditch. The front of my car slammed into the ground, and the car flipped end over end. I unbuckled my seatbeld to fly out of the car, away from the devil. I landed 27 feet and 3 inches away from the car. I felt like I had just been in an accident.
I looked up and saw the sun, then I felt the devils fingers on my throat.
"What the fuck were you doing,"" he said.
I was trying to escape, you said Hell was just a game," I yelled.
"It is, it's a lot of fun for me. I take out those billboards all across the country, I write stupid shit about Hell, and people think it's the Catholic Church, but it's me and that's fun," the devil said.
"So Hell is all a game, roadside advertisments," I barked, as the devil tightened his grip around my throat. "Roadside advertisments, and other things," the devil said, leaning overtop of me.
I saw his head, silloughetted, in front of the sun; his horns arching out, in perfect symmetry.
It was a fantastic view.
cellosoul:
beatnik meets Stephen King meets satan (*snaps fingers*)