184. I hate

I hate my job. I hate every fucking minute of it. Every goddamn useless task. Every annoying little shit I run into in the hallway.

I want to pummel my so-called colleagues in the face until all there’s left is a mad, hysterical pulp. I count the minutes till I’m rid of them, the angry hipsters who jump in limousines with howling chinks and crafty coots. Who cahoot with bling-bling negroes in Turkish baths, burning money, tapping ass.

I hate my girlfriend too. The skanky, slutty blonde with big breasts I bang ‘most every night not because I love her but I loathe her. I want her to feel my contempt when I cum in her, she makes me sick. I cheat on the yacketayakking bitch with tortilla prostitutes half her age and twice as perverted.

My shrink says I do these things and say this stuff because in truth I hate myself. But I say: fuck him, with his fancy diplomas and condescending timbre and that full-grown filthy beard he strokes as a genital substitute every time he thinks he’s right.

But he’s not.

Cause I hate the traffic and the Madison flannel people in their ghastly cars, those hideous metal coffins that clog the city with their stink and claxons.

I hate the bums that spit out boozy breath and cloud the brightest day with their pushcarts full of onions.

I hate the church, the pederasts that play with kids and cock and lots of balls.

I am the best mind of my generation.

And I hate.

I hate.

I hate.



Did you enjoy this story? Then why not try the 101 stories in 300 words or less in YOU’RE GETTING SLEEPY, THE HYPNOTIST’S APPRENTICE YAWNED.

Available at the Createspace Store, at amazon.com, amazon.co.uk or any other Amazon store in your territory.  E-book is also available.

Tagged , , , , , ,

4 thoughts on “184. I hate

  1. shelleyburbank says:

    That was scary. Brilliant, but scary.

  2. I agree, quite a view into the character’s disturbed mind.

  3. At first I didn’t see that that was a prompt…really good writing really pulls you in and shocks you while still making you feel bad for the narrator

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: