Tag Archives: violence

Pure Veterans

Something something profound
something poignant about war
without being arrogant, jingoistic,
flag-wavin’ Merkin, patriotic
without patronizing, proud
without pandering sentiment.
Maybe some deep symbolism,
how we’re all pure veterans
in the war against maturity,
fascism, adolescence, truth,
or whichever boycotted brand —
but again, without belittling
the ones who’ve held guns,
walked through hails of bullets,
faced unspeakable horrors
in the name of a fight for
abstract, unphysical concepts
which mean all of a world
to those who still have one.


SHE stands in the light, her hair pulled up in a casual sleepover ponytail. She looks into a(n invisible) mirror in front of her.

So — um — okay so — I think I’m confused.

Lights go up suddenly to reveal that HE is lying behind her, naked, in a bathtub full of ice. He has one hand missing, and a wound on his back where a kidney might have been.

I drank three Bloody Marys, right? So — in the bathroom, and first, that’s disgusting, I don’t know who drinks that V8 crap, it’s so like — ugh — the texture — and but so anyway — and so like I turn around the first time and then — he was there.

He starts to whistle “Twisted Nerve.”

I don’t know, the girls I babysit for, they were talking about it before they went to bed, and I had the house to myself now, and I wasn’t sure — because I thought it was turn around 3 times? But maybe it was drink one Bloody Mary, and I don’t know, I tried Wikipedeing it but they have like the most worst service out at this house and so I couldn’t use my phone and then stupid Mr. Bailey has their internet all password protected so I said you know screw it you know I’ll just try it out. So I did.

She looks back at the man in the tub.

And anyway isn’t Bloody Mary supposed to be a woman? Right? Her name’s “Mary” — which — I know there’s guys named Stacey or whatever but that’s stupid — but so clearly I did something wrong — obviously because I don’t remember there being a naked man.

He slowly stands up from the bathrub. He moves towards her.

And like I don’t know is that something I’m supposed to be taking care of? I mean twelve bucks an hour to watch the Disney Channel with these brats, that’s fine but the Baileys never mentioned anything about some gross naked guy and like it’d be one thing if he was cute but he’s got all like the hand thingie and — ugh — gross —

He towers over her from behind and lifts his stumped arm, extending it over her shoulder as if pointing at the (invisible) mirror in front of her, dripping blood onto her clothes.

So I don’t know if I’m supposed to clean it up or if it’s just some weird like whatever and then hello would you please stop bleeding on me? Ugh. Like see this, now I have to get my shirt drycleaned and like you’re not paying me enough to deal with this like creepo —

She gags, coughing up blood, as He jabs a knife into her lower back. He continues carving into her, cutting something out. Finally he drops the knife on the ground and thrusts his hand into her back, pulling out her kidney. He pushes her deadweight off of him, dropping her limp corpse into the bathtub behind them.

He takes her kidney, feels around his back, and places it inside his own gaping wound. Once he has it in the right place, he reaches back down and picks the knife up off the floor.

He looks at the bloody stump of his own hand, then looks back to the girl in the bathtub, then back at his own hand. He turns around and reaches for her arm.


Massachusetts License Plate 24T-HIO

A-pedal left, a-pedal right, a-pedal side-by-side
down Massachusetts Avenue, headed swiftly Cambridge-side,
when by the corner of mine eye a creature did appear
who rode atop a dark blue steed and wreaked of hate and fear.

Though I held green, the beast turned right on red, so full of pride.
He cast no glance around him — I careened into his side!
“What are you, fucking retarded?” he spoke, “You dumb fuckin’ little shit!
I’ve got four fucking wheels, so get off the goddamn road you asshole!”

I turned to him in shock with piercing daggers in my eyes:
“Indeed, good sir, you broke the law — and neither did you rhyme!”
“Fuck you, you little cocksucker. I’ll hit you again if you don’t get out of my fucking way!”
I said I’d call the men of law to see what they had to say.

He disembarked his steed and lumbered forth in my direction,
“Go on you fucking prick, I fucking dare you. Go ahead, call the fucking cops. You’re the god damn retard here.”
“Forsooth, dear sir!” I doth protested, “for thou art in the wrong!”
“You shit-eating little pussy, go ahead. Here’s my fucking license plate.”

With that burst, he mounted back upon his armored steed
and drove away, leaving me to contemplate his deed.
I paused for breathe, considering the issue challenged me.
I grabbed my phone, called 911, and told them everything.

So I write to you, owner of blue jeep with a license plate of 24T-HIO:

Have fun paying off my college loans when I sue your ass for aggravated assault with a motor vehicle, dick.