( he's practically growling, like a dog on its leash, the way animals have a singular kind of precognition for the current of bad omens running brilliantly electric in the air. )

big storm.

i don't blame my parents, 'course. they can't help being real dumb. but i'm kind, awful kind, unlike them. i told you. i can see the future. now we're gonna show 'em. i'm gonna show 'em all the ties that bind 'em, and the only 'i' they'll ever have to worry about is mine.

it'll be a crukking riot.

and every second, we're all thinking 'i'. but it's not *our* i, it's someone else's. and there can be different leaders shaping you, different 'i's. a thought, or a feeling, or a sensation, on and on forever, binding to someone else's 'i'. people are just pluralities of idiots.

all this 'i, i, i, me, me, me' bullshit. there's no such thing as a damn individual 'i'. there's a couple hundred or thousand small versions of this 'i' thing, decided by the few good ones, all totally seperate to each other's whims, and weak people join in to the nicest-sounding one.

she lives in the dirt and she'll die in the dirt.

but not me. *not me*. i can see the future. i can see heaven, and none of these fuckers are getting in. the truth my whore momma doesn't wanna see is that we all wanna shut the hell up and start listening to the visionaries.

damn selfish brat. probably walk off a cliff into radioactive gunk if you promised her some jet afterward. and you know what? what was *real* funny? the whole damn *joke of it all*? she used to call *me* selfish, 'cos i wanted bigger things! i mean, who was she to try and tell *me* right and wrong?

about was herself and what *she* wanted. a cleverer fella than me might call her a hedonist. yup, she had itches to scratch and spent her whole life trying to scratch them. how the hell she fell in with my papa i'll never know. maybe it got them both off, seeing how the other half lived. she's a

to kill. who cares about any of that shit? there's a whole world out there, and a bunch more beyond this one i'm sure. if there's a heaven none of these idiots are getting in. they spent all their fortune on menthols!

that brings me to my momma, the biggest damn caveman i ever met. all she talked

just slugs and leeches (look those up - can you believe we were ever that stupid, using 'em in medicine?) on the teat of a few good gods that walk the earth. yeah, gods. the world's just gods and cavemen. nothing else. these cavemen just can't focus on anything but their urges. to fuck, to drink,

how could a man like that, so damn clever, have this side of him that only knew how to eat, sleep and fuck, cursing out for revenge? and that used to make me laugh, 'cos ain't it obvious?

i'm no philosopher. don't need to be. a man isn't good for anything but revenge. people aren't *fast*, they're

he could do is grunt and scream like a real caveman. yeah, a caveman's the right word for it. we learned fast when that mood was coming on so we could lock him in the bathroom. now my momma, she was real confused.

long 'fore he met my momma. he was ex brotherhood, working as a mechanic and computer guy down in texas, run outta town for who knows what. we had good days where he was real quiet, playin' around with his pre-war junk - my momma liked that in a man, an obsessive - and then we had days where all

after that i got a new dad. only ever called him by his first name. we both had our own things goin' on, and he respected that. but he was real funny in the head, see, like there was two sides of him. he never talked about it but i heard my momma saying he'd been in a fucked up relationship not

no wonder my momma didn't love him. soon as he found out 'bout her new fling & realized i didn't give a shit about any of his damn lessons, he took a lighter to the diesel refinery he worked at & that was the end of all of that.