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Thinking Of You Till It Hurts {Extended Edition, with Even More Additional Dialog}

June 2, 2018

“‘Are ya stupid, son?'”

Same downward look followed by no reply.

“Let me tell you about Cleo. That bitch–she’s a female dog, so I can call her that. Politically correct gestapo take note.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“No one. Myself. Everyone. Does it matter?

“Where was I? Right. That dog. No matter how much dog whisperer–I can still mention him right? Despite the scandal? Or no? Maybe we should burn all his books and DVDs in ‘protest.’ Dinesh would love that twofold: Getting rid of wisdom and the Left behaving like brownshirts.

“Anyway…that dog only listened when I was sitting right there, forcibly, telling her to behave. She’d snarl and lick my hand as if to say, ‘You’re doing it all wrong but you’re the boss, so okay.’ Then, after I’d gone to work, she’d shit on the floor.

“Now maybe you and yours killed her. Don’t know for certain. How could I? But I loved that dog anyway.”

“Which is the point, Chris. Mind control. PSYOP. I didn’t mean for this to happen. It’s someone’s joke, I know. But I didn’t mean for you to fall in love with me.”

“Now, where am I supposed to take that? Because I’ve got six ways from Sunday. Apostle Paul, allegedly, fed Christians to f***ing lions. I don’t think Sunday school paintings do that justice. Think about that, if you dare…if you can.

“Next: What the f*** did I just say? What did I just f***ing say? I said, ‘I loved that dog anyway.’ And, by the way…in high school…while driving drunk…I either killed or severely injured some family’s dog. And, I did not have the guts to go see them the next day.

“I could blame being closeted gay making me crazy and a little vicious. I could blame the alcohol. It sometimes made me mean. I could blame the stupid dog for running out in front of the car. The family for not keeping the damn thing inside the yard. I could blame my fair-weather friends for making me feel as though I had to pretend to be straight and tough. What does tough really mean anyway? Doesn’t mean shit until you have to survive something that should crush you. Only then do you know for sure.

“Acting tough because of what others think or because you don’t want to face what you did is not toughness; it’s cowardice.

“There’s just no excuse for not apologizing. And taking some responsibility. I was young. What does that mean?

“Weird. It was a song that reminded me of that. That’s what songs do. And smells sometimes. Pheromones, etc.”

Chris paused and rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. He smiled when next he spoke.

“Are you deaf and blind as well as an idiot savant? No offense to people with autism. It’s a useful metaphor and I am not referring to actual people with autism. What I mean is, we make decisions unconsciously…then we guess as to why we did them consciously. So, the big question: Did you plan that, or did someone else tell you exactly what to do?”

The downward look again.

“See? You don’t f***ing know why you did it. But you did it. You did it because you knew everyone else you knew was doing the opposite. Like that money dude whose name I keep forgetting that everyone wants to be by ignoring his advice completely. Note that my using him as an example in no way should be construed as me condoning gambling on Wall Str–”

“WHO are you talking to?”

Chris pointed to each wall and when he got to the last one said, “Four!”

“What does that mean?”

“It means this is not real. It means, once you break everything and anything down to its smallest parts, what you have is vibrations. This according to g-string theory. It means we are really just sound. Echoes of the Big Bang or when God spoke it all into being, interpret that how you like.

“It means the world actually is digital, not analog. But our eyesight and level of perception and understanding is so poor, we cannot see that. It’s all fake because we can’t see ‘reality.’

“And I don’t really understand any of that. So all it means to me is ‘I don’t care. I love you anyway.’ What difference does it make if I, God, neurochemomistry, the CIA, or Cupid made that happen? What difference does it make? So what if someone cheated and played the Kobayashi Maru on us? So what? It feels right to me. All I don’t hear from you because this is a short story and you aren’t actually here talking to me in the flesh is, ‘I have a billion excuses.’

“And what difference does it make what you’ve done? It’s never too late to change. So come tell me your billion excuses and I’ll take them on one by one. Because I can talk and talk and talk without ever thinking. That’s my superpower. Probably the only one.

“But I’d like to understand yours better. So stop reading this and shaking your head and wondering how best to kill me because it’d be merciful, quick and easy.

“Because, goddam you, sometimes I don’t think it’s merciful. And that’s your f***ing fault. You helped make your bed. So come lie in it.

“So just grow up and act responsibly. Take some responsibility.

“Or we could just watch Adult Swim and eat ice cream. Your choice.”

The link below has nothing to do with anything. At least that’s what I think consciously.

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