VanillaGorilla
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My name is Allen, and if you’re reading this, then there is a pretty good chance I am not dead yet. All my life, I have narrowly avoided the scythe of The Reaper, and on many occasions, I have come out of those encounters unscathed. For all intents and purposes, I should be nothing more than a pile of rotting bones by now, being picked apart by soil dwelling worms, but somehow, I have made it this long without meeting my maker. And while some of my experiences may sound like the crazy exaggerations of a deranged glue sniffer, I can assure you that they are all true.
As a young child, I grew up in a very dangerous part of town. One day, I rode my bicycle right past a house in which a man was bludgeoned to death over money to go to a Subway restaurant. I thought nothing of the sounds emanating from the house, as I had known that my neighborhood had its fair share of psychotics. The noises coming from inside didn’t seem like what you would associate with a homicide. I’m sure if someone had screamed “Help, I am being murdered, call the local authorities!”, I might have become suspicious. Although, it was probably a good thing that I didn’t interject myself into the situation. Surely, if I had witnessed the ordeal as it happened, the 2 assailants would have chased me down and beaten me mercilessly. To this day, I still wonder if those 2 killers ever went to Subway, and if so, does a sandwich taste better after you’ve just killed a man for it?
Not long after this incident, I found myself in my high school gym classs. The high school I attended had its own Olympic sized swimming pool, which we used for a portion of the year. I never learned how to swim, so for most of the class periods, I would stalk the deep end, and wrestle with the giant foam rubber shark we used as a flotation device. However, after all this time in the shallow end, I became jealous of my friends, who could soar majestically through the air, thanks to the diving board. And since Man has yearned to fly for centuries, I decided that it was my turn to attempt flight. Without a life jacket or water wings, I climbed the diving board. As my peers looked on in disbelief, I took to the air. It was a magnificent dive, that famed Olympic diving judge Dr. Leo Donath would have deemed a perfect 10. The subsequent exit from the pool, however, proved more trouble than I had originally intended. As I thrashed my limbs about, attempting to draw attention to my plight, my classmates pointed at me and laughed. My reputation as a huckster had meant that I was not to be taken seriously. To counteract this, I decided to spew profanity, hoping this tactic would draw the attention of the swimming instructor. After what seemed like hours, one of my friends finally dove in and rescued me from the abyss. To him, I am forever grateful.
As you have now read, I have not only had one foot in the grave, I’ve done dirt angels in my plot. It’s only a matter of time before fate catches up to me, and by now, I have come to welcome its cold, clammy hands on my shoulder. Before long, those hands will wrap around my neck and finally finish the job it’s been unable to accomplish for all these years.
As a young child, I grew up in a very dangerous part of town. One day, I rode my bicycle right past a house in which a man was bludgeoned to death over money to go to a Subway restaurant. I thought nothing of the sounds emanating from the house, as I had known that my neighborhood had its fair share of psychotics. The noises coming from inside didn’t seem like what you would associate with a homicide. I’m sure if someone had screamed “Help, I am being murdered, call the local authorities!”, I might have become suspicious. Although, it was probably a good thing that I didn’t interject myself into the situation. Surely, if I had witnessed the ordeal as it happened, the 2 assailants would have chased me down and beaten me mercilessly. To this day, I still wonder if those 2 killers ever went to Subway, and if so, does a sandwich taste better after you’ve just killed a man for it?
Not long after this incident, I found myself in my high school gym classs. The high school I attended had its own Olympic sized swimming pool, which we used for a portion of the year. I never learned how to swim, so for most of the class periods, I would stalk the deep end, and wrestle with the giant foam rubber shark we used as a flotation device. However, after all this time in the shallow end, I became jealous of my friends, who could soar majestically through the air, thanks to the diving board. And since Man has yearned to fly for centuries, I decided that it was my turn to attempt flight. Without a life jacket or water wings, I climbed the diving board. As my peers looked on in disbelief, I took to the air. It was a magnificent dive, that famed Olympic diving judge Dr. Leo Donath would have deemed a perfect 10. The subsequent exit from the pool, however, proved more trouble than I had originally intended. As I thrashed my limbs about, attempting to draw attention to my plight, my classmates pointed at me and laughed. My reputation as a huckster had meant that I was not to be taken seriously. To counteract this, I decided to spew profanity, hoping this tactic would draw the attention of the swimming instructor. After what seemed like hours, one of my friends finally dove in and rescued me from the abyss. To him, I am forever grateful.
As you have now read, I have not only had one foot in the grave, I’ve done dirt angels in my plot. It’s only a matter of time before fate catches up to me, and by now, I have come to welcome its cold, clammy hands on my shoulder. Before long, those hands will wrap around my neck and finally finish the job it’s been unable to accomplish for all these years.
ing moron.
