"A FOOTHOLD IN HIS FACE" is a fast fiction that aspires to the summits of man's imagination while also providing tips on a quick escape from a throttling by a bastardly boss.
Today's inspiration comes from Roberto Goring, an 18-year old artist whose work smashes together color, characters and action into a crime scene that you'll want to slow down to stare at as you pass by.
Enjoy...
"To call you useless is to insult all of the things in this world which are truly deserving of the term 'useless'. Umbrellas in a tsunami, water-wings in a desert, a fucking shovel thrown at a drowning man. These are useless things. You are less than these things. You are sub-garbage !!" His screaming builds to a crescendo of rage.
I can muster nothing more than a blink in response to this barrage of abuse.
"No to call you 'sub-garbage' is to insult anything that might ever fit in that catagory. You are a rotting piece of turd used by school children as a target for their loogy-hawking contest." He settles down to a simmer.
I fight the urge to fall to the ground in a faint. I imagine myself as a tiny rock-climber trying to find a foothold in the rocky edges of his face. Trying to climb my way up from the ground below. Find a way to hold onto the moment.
"Never again," I mutter.
"That's right never again. What the hell do you think this is a girl scout camp for retards!! When I say I need something, that means I need it !!"
Yes that's right. Two sugars in his coffee. Two sugars. I hold on for dear life.
Today's inspiration comes from Roberto Goring, an 18-year old artist whose work smashes together color, characters and action into a crime scene that you'll want to slow down to stare at as you pass by.
Enjoy...
A FOOTHOLD IN HIS FACE
"To call you useless is to insult all of the things in this world which are truly deserving of the term 'useless'. Umbrellas in a tsunami, water-wings in a desert, a fucking shovel thrown at a drowning man. These are useless things. You are less than these things. You are sub-garbage !!" His screaming builds to a crescendo of rage.
I can muster nothing more than a blink in response to this barrage of abuse.
"No to call you 'sub-garbage' is to insult anything that might ever fit in that catagory. You are a rotting piece of turd used by school children as a target for their loogy-hawking contest." He settles down to a simmer.
I fight the urge to fall to the ground in a faint. I imagine myself as a tiny rock-climber trying to find a foothold in the rocky edges of his face. Trying to climb my way up from the ground below. Find a way to hold onto the moment.
"Never again," I mutter.
"That's right never again. What the hell do you think this is a girl scout camp for retards!! When I say I need something, that means I need it !!"
Yes that's right. Two sugars in his coffee. Two sugars. I hold on for dear life.
posted by kevin spenst at 3:48 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home