One Yank – Dead Deer

One Yank

Pulling on that chain, again and again, it was obvious what would happen, why I was doing it. Even as I delighted in the action I recognised that some may see it as unwise, unfair possibly. The very idea of stopping, however, simply could not enter my mind. Every so often in life a chance presents itself, you have to grab it. Regrets are too many, and too painful to risk once again.

Clearly this pointless waste of skin wasn’t worth concerning oneself about. Lanky, a streak of piss, with an annoying way of moving, nobody cares. All around you hear the old gag about the empty taxi drawing up and him getting out. Right now, though, he is helpless, atop that mighty tank, tied in place. Kicking and screaming in that thin, flat, uninteresting voice no one pays any attention to. Enter the septic tank, with a single yank!

It stinks, true, it’s horrific, but the septic tank rejects him. Seems he is too foul even for it.

Another plan must be hatched to rid the world of this nasty, selfish, destructive presence that curses us all with it’s pointlessness.

Can we think of anything that will suffice? Unworldly, certainly, that is surely required. Never before has such a stupid pile of old grey curly hair caused such trouble. Torch him.

Today I wrote from 21:45 to 21:55. I was prompted by idea “One last yank then a pull and the landing was clearhere. My other writings here. All my prompted writing here, and my tweets here


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