Saturday, January 31, 2015

"If your hand causes you to sin, cut it off. It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out." - Mark 9:43

Heart racing, I inspected the little cone of sweet, harvested seduction to ensure there were no blemishes. After all, even Jesus was allowed to have a last supper. Cole Harrison sat there; unaware that he would be the first to bring about a new age. He would be the first to be seen before the court of the Father. A court that only had one ruling: guilty.

“Thank you,” he said in his soft Irish twang.

“What would you consider your biggest sin?” he looked at me as though I had given him a plate of tiny human hearts instead of the delectable waffles that sat there staring back at him.

“That’s a bit personal to be asking a man you just met isn’t it?”

“I’d say it is envy.” I sat down next to him. Knife in hand. In that moment, my only desire was to finally touch my hands to that red river held inside every man and woman. To finally wash my hands of this liquid lust and replace it with the blood of the lamb.

The man stared at me. Perplexed.

“You want your nephew don’t you? But you can’t have him?”

Cole stood there. Petrified.

“How did you… I mean. I never told you…”

“You’re jealousy has pushed you away from him they call God. You would do well to repent.”

Clive you idiot.

“I should really go check on my apartment.”

As Cole moved towards the door, Clive sat. He easily could’ve caught the Irishman and ended his life, but he didn’t. Instead, Clive Buccatti began to cry.


 I could barely see through the tears streaming down my face. It’s not a good combination: running and crying. I didn’t know where I was running to or what I was crying for but instead of questioning it I just cried.

Blindly, I ran across town. Past the Sunny-Side Up Diner, the home of gluttony, past the Church of Faith, the resting place for sinners and their false idols, past the YMCA, home of pride and envy. Finally I stopped. In front of the Pit. I stood on the edge. Looking down, I saw blackness. I wished, for that moment, that I could live the life of Absalom. To be cast into the pit. To be buried under those stones. To die. I closed my eyes and prepared myself to fall.

Stop. Just stop.


I’m telling you to stop. Suicide is so boring.

Who are you? What do you want? Why do you keep speaking to me? Whispering to me?

Are you really that dense? You haven’t figured it out yet?


I am he. I am the Angel of the bottomless pit. Accuser of the brethren. I am he they call Beelzebub. The Serpent of Old. The Great tempter. I am the Morning Star. Lucifer. I am the Devil. And you are all these things as well.

I… I don’t understand.

Good lord… YOU’RE THE FUCKING DEVIL INCARNATE. Good god almighty do I need to spell it out for you?

You’re lying. You’re just a voice. A voice in my head.


I can shut you out.

You don’t seem to get it. I am not in your thoughts. You are in mine. You only believe you have free will because I allow it. But I could take it away just as easily.

You’re lying.

Don’t you find it strange how long it’s been since you’ve thought about your family? I mean I thought you loved that bitch wife of yours and your shitty little three-year old.

Fuck you. Shut the fuck up.

 I control everything you think, do, and say. We are the same. Just as I am the devil, so too are you.

Fuck you. You ca… Artichoke. Antidisestablishmentarianism. Michael Cera’s unbelievably sexy pencil mustache.

Now do you get it?


“Hey. Are you alright?” I looked up at the boy’s concerned face and knew that my argument hadn’t been contained to my thoughts.

“Oh” Clive stammered. “Sorry. I was just…”

“Hey. It’s alright. No need to explain. I just wanted to make sure that you were alright.”

I stared at the boys yellow hair. I could see it in his eyes that he was totally gay.

Not that there’s anything wrong with that. 


I’d forgotten about her.

“Hello Clive. Hello… Lucifer. I see you decided to stop playing nice.”

“Hey babe, take it ea…”

The bitch pushed me against a wall. ME.

“First off, I am not your babe. No one talks to me like that. Secondly, the minute you start taking lives, the minute you begin to interfere with The Plan, I will speed up Clive’s chapter. I will take him from you so quickly,”

“God you’re sexy when you’re angry.”

“Did you not hear me? I will kill your body.”

“Do you honestly think that’ll stop me? Empty threats? C’mon Catherine you can do better than that. Or would you rather me call you Mrityu? Śmierć? Malach HaMavet? Dea…”

“Do not… Say… It… We are done here. You have been warned. You’ve already interrupted The Plan once. Don’t do it again.”

She was gone before I could even make a comeback. It was gonna be a good one too. That bitch. But what did she mean about interrupting The Plan? I mean, don’t get me wrong I fully intend take her plan and shove it right up her ass but… I haven’t done anything yet. Looks like she made a mistake. About damn time. 

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

"But the cowardly, the unbelieving, the vile, the murderers, the sexually immoral, those who practice magic arts, the idolaters and all liars--their place will be in the fiery lake of burning sulfur." - Revelations 21:8 (Apartment 43)

Clive Buccatti got up. Clive Buccatti plodded outside. Clive Buccatti decided to start each sentence with “Clive Buccatti” pretty much just to piss off anyone who would want Clive Buccatti to do otherwise. Damn did you see that? Not even using pronouns anymore. Just “Clive Buccatti”. Clive Buccatti wrote…

As the sun shined into the 43rd apartment of Dreamwood Terrace, my eyelids retreated back into my into my skull leaving my freshly dilated pupils to fend for themselves against the harsh light intensified by the reflecting off of the snow that reminded me all too much of my inner…

Man this guy’s pretentious. Skip to something interesting please.

So I decided to go outside. The snow came up to about my waist. Fuck the snow. The monotonous weather event just furthered my hatred for this mundane slum we call a town. I took my first step into the…

Holy shit could you go any slower??? I mean we get it you’re depressed. Literally no one cares. Man depression is so boring. That’s it I’m taking over. Sit back Clive. You can tell the story when it’s your turn.

Alright where were we? Oh yeah. So Clive was walking through the snow and wondering how to further describe how the snow reminded him of how much of a little bitch he was when he noticed a congregation of people inside that shitty diner next to his apartment complex. Now because Clive was such a deadbeat he wasn’t really accustomed to being around people. So he kept moving. He walked over to that little cupcake shop to see if the women he had met that one time was working there. She was. Now Clive was so socially awkward that he found it difficult to talk to his inner demons (no matter how badass they may appear) let alone some hot babe. So he decided to just look at her and continue to wonder where he knew her from. Yes he still had not realized it was *SPOILER ALERT* the girl from that dream he had earlier in that same blog post.

After not realizing the second most obvious plot twist in human history (Next to the resurrection of Christ. I mean seriously? That’s not exactly M. Night Shamalan level stuff) Clive decided to go back to his sad excuse for an apartment. Alright, I guess I’ll let him tell the rest.

The man sat on the floor outside of his apartment with his head between his legs.

“Hello?” I asked. The man looked up at me with a look that I couldn’t quite place as disdainful or bored.

“Hey,” he said in broken Irish accent. I could almost taste the sin dripping off of this man like sweat. Envy. Cowardess.


"What's your name?"

"Cole. Cole Harrison."

“Why’re you sitting out here?”

“My place is being searched.”

“Oh,” I said as the first smile I had had in years started to creep across my face, “Well my place is just around the corner there. Wanna come in for some strawberry waffles?”

Sunday, January 11, 2015

"And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light." - 2 Corinthians 11:14

"What makes Satan so evil?" Clive asked the girl as he was cleaning off the knife he had just used to cut up strawberries for their waffles. "What?" she responded. Clive thought she was truly beautiful. It was such a shame he was going to have to kill her. "Well," Clive responded, "In the bible. What makes God so good and Satan so bad? After all Satan only ever killed ten people whereas God killed millions." The girl stared at Clive like he crazy. They usually did. "Um," the girl said, "I mean isn't the reason he's so bad that he tempts people? Like with Eve in that garden?" Clive picked up their waffles and brought them over to the girl on his couch. "So what you're saying is that when I tempt you by offering you this waffle," Clive could feel the knife pulsating in his back pocket. It wanted to take this ignorant girl's life, "That I am essentially the devil himself?" The girl took a bite of her waffle. "Well no but..." "AND!" Clive exclaimed, "Does you accepting this waffle then make you a sinner because you gave into temptation?" The girl was speechless. This is to be expected since the guy was... What's the politically correct term for "Fucking Insane"? I can never remember these things... "Well then" said Clive as he gripped the knife in his back pocket, "as a sinner I suppose it's time for you to be judged by my God and Father." Then Clive pulled out the knife and...

After waking up from that dream I knew it was going to be one of those days. I’d had invasive dreams like that before (hell I have them while I’m awake) but that one felt… different somehow. It’s that I felt scared or concerned by this… I don’t know. It was something. I could tell just through the crack in my curtain that the sun was feeling particularly ignescent today. I wouldn’t have gone outside if it weren’t my appointment. Unfortunately I had to go to see Dr. Clemont. Isn’t there some rule about quacks being therapists? Cause Dr. Clemont isn’t exactly all there (sorry if you’re reading this Doc but you told me to be truthful).

Unfortunately Dr. Clemont’s office was in downtown, not in Dreamwood where I lived. This wouldn’t have been a problem except it involved getting on the subway. I hated being on the subway. Being underground always made me feel uneasy and yet… strangely at home.  

Evil. Sinner. Blasphemous. How is it that the same words can be so beautiful and so terrible at the same time? Why is it that humanity, after everything, hasn’t been able to define the most archaic of ideas? Good vs Evil. Light vs Dark. Comedy vs Tragedy. Moral vs Immoral. Maybe if we were different it would be more complicated but to me, with humanity, it seems so much simpler. There is just Evil. There is just Darkness. Just Tragedy. Just Immoral. Every decision anyone makes is selfish. People only help others so they can feel good about themselves.

These were thoughts running through my head in the waiting room of Dr. Clemont’s when she walked up. By the look on her face I guess I must have been thinking out loud again. I have to remember to stop doing that while in a shrink’s office. So while I’m thinking this girl walks up. Usually I just don’t humor people who try to talk to me but there was something different about this one. She was so beautiful she almost made me forget about Elizabeth. She also seemed familiar to me. Like I’d seen her before. In any case, she talked to me for a good long while about nothing in particular before I finally got bored with her. She said she owned some cupcake place and asked if I’d visit. Anything to shut you up. So I said sure.

After my extremely uneventful therapy session where I didn’t discover anything about myself or my little friend in my head I went home. When night rolled around I decided to take a walk like Clemont had told me to. I couldn’t stop thinking about my dream and what made it feel different. I was walking past the old asylum on Herschel Johnson Rd. when a meteor shower began overhead. Uncontrollably, I dropped to the ground and was overcome by an unprecedented display of ecstasy. It was in that moment that I figured out what was so unnerving about my devastatingly inhuman dream. It wasn’t that it made me feel scared or concerned. It was that it didn’t.