Zomtropolis By Zed Zefram

SATURDAY, JUNE 7, 2008

1: I Hate This

I’m so drunk right now I can hardly see straight. My head feels like it’s in a mixer. My heart’s somewhere in my gut, absent from my chest and just sitting there, boiling in stomach acid. And I feel every burn, every pinch.

It’s a trippy thing when an ex-girlfriend comes back into your life. Except, in my case, Selena is dead.

Man, I hope I don’t mess this up. Don’t even know why I’m writing this. Catharsis, or whatever it’s called, I guess. Maybe I’ll go back later and check for typos. Maybe I won’t.

Who cares.

It’s getting to the point of being too much now, sitting here, in this dingy apartment, waiting for the world to finally come to an end.

Oh, yeah. That already happened. Maybe I’m just waiting for my own world to come to an end. Wait, that happened already, too.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

One would think that after sitting here in this stupid hole for the past two months I would have gotten used to having next to nothing to eat, next to nothing to drink, next to no sleep for nights on end.

Right, back to my ex. I guess you want to know what happened. Well, guess what? So do I. I mean, I can tell you what happened, give you the nitty-gritty about the night she waltzed back into my apartment and tried to rip a piece out of me again. Or maybe you want to hear about how after we first broke up this girl messed me up so bad she landed me in the hospital on suicide watch? Wanna hear about that? I bet you do. If you didn’t, you wouldn’t be reading this.

Figures. People always love to hear about the downfalls of others but when it comes to their own demise, they tend to back away.

I’m glad the human race is near dead. Probably just a few more weeks to go and it’ll all be over. You. Me. And anyone else who’s out there, hoping this thing would pass.

Sorry. Getting sidetracked. Hard to juggle two mind-benders at the same time. What’s weird is that both of them have to do with death, dying and more death.

Hang on. Got this bottle of Tequila beside me. Need some. Say what you want but the stuff’s great, probably the only thing keeping me detached enough from reality that I’m even able to keep something of a brain together.

Booze never goes bad.

My ex. Man, why did she have to come back? And, boy, I tell you, she really came back. Lock, stock and two smoking barrels and all that.

Taking a shot. Hold on.

...

...

...

Done. Wait, here comes the pinch. Okay, I’m ready.

So...you really wanna know what went down about six hours ago?

Okay, I’ll tell you.

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    • 1: I Hate This
    • 2: We're All Gonna Die
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