Ken: “Hello world!”

possible true back story to future fiction posts in

This is me.

Welcome to my word dungeon. This is my first post. Edit or delete it, then start writing! blah blah blah… oh my God, how fucken annoying is it to see Hello world on somebody’s website, and then be like this mother fucker didn’t bother changing the boiler plate riff raff that any self-respecting electric-surfer (e-surfer? too soon?) would gladly pass on by like a 80s rap song named Cheapskate nobody ever heard of.

Right, so, allow me to introduce myself. First though, about this website… I’m going to write some fiction. And there’s gonna be slices of reality blended so finely that even the people who recognize themselves in the story will not be able to make heads or tails of what really happened, and they were there! Crazy stuff!

Next, it’s gonna be fucken funny. I’m a miserable mother fucker. I also think I deserve to be the next pope on account of how Buddhist I pretend to be as a self-righteous Grateful Dead-pretend hippie mad at the world for not letting him destroy his life as completely and quickly as I could have done if left to my own devices.

Now, there’s my wife. I’m currently at the moment married. This happened last year. I’ve known her seven years. We were business partners first, but after she hired me and I hostile took over her husband’s affairs. Well, ex, they legally were divorced, I just assisted in the separation and post-separation coitus.

That aside. Fast forward six years or so to post-Covid America. I made a lot of stupid promises when I thought I was going to die anyway. She ain’t given up this ride because it comes clip-curved thanks to rabbi Ped-a-snip and the eight days he failed to warn me of his criminal intentions. Anyway, that went sideways. It’s actually not very true. That’s another thing. I’m not promising any of this is true or not true. These fiction-infused slices of my life may be completely true or some twisted version, but I honestly was so drunk when I wrote this right now, that I can’t even remember what we were talking about.

So, marriage. Marriage is a beast. And I’m not talking like biblical mark of the beast satan bullshit; this is marriage–much worse. Let’s not insult poor evil satan any more than his evil reputation implies and haunts us all. Women are the physical manefestation of satan incarnate, and I’m not just saying this as a victim of a woman scorned, falsely by the way, she self-scorned as justification for burning me. And I’m talking butane lighter fluid down my crack while I’m asleep and her and that bitch beagle of hers chain smoke on the other side of the mattress, waiting for me to awaken so they can laugh at my flaming screams (manly screams though. Not like super gay high pitched the bitch set my ass on fire while i was sleeping kind of screams some sissy would yell as he fell back asleep unsuspectingly and repeated the vicious cycle til the moon finally gave chase to his dimly lit dawn.)

So that’s me. That’s the life I chose. For better or worse. Much, much worse. Better to accept worse than the worse than worse I’ve chosen again. Now, when you read the first post I wrote titled “Second Entry” you’ll understand what kind of guy I am with this uptown girl ruining my tiny world. Alright fuck Billy joel, and if you know my wife, then fuck you too. This is all too much fucken drama for one poor sad penless putz to not put in writing as events unfold in real time.

Oh, yeah, my name is fuck you who cares, just go laugh at my pain. I’m sure it was funny the first time.