I want to write an
honest sentence. The blond-haired boy who comes to play with dogs shows off
his walkie-talkie. In case he gets kidnapped, he says. Who would
kidnap him? His mother says someone might want his new shoes and take
him away. It's the middle of the year so he wonders if he's still in
second grade. The drunken man in a Houston hotel told police he
needed all his weapons to keep them safe, there on the 30th
floor on New Year's Eve. An Iraq War vet in Iraqi Freedom cap made
videos of himself playing with a yoyo. His “critiques of law enforcement”
amounted to accusing a cop (he held the deputy's card to the
camera) of pimping a woman with chestnut
hair who only hid behind a door. His roommate gave the soon to be mowed
down cops a key to the apartment.
Logical Fallacy owns a gun. Logical Fallacy sets himself upon the world to correct its errors of precision and truthfulness, because there are conspiracies afoot. What really happened was something you can't imagine, even if you believe it. Like pedophile pizza makers supporting HRC. Logical Fallacy wants to write an honest sentence, too, one so full of detail you wouldn't need a GPS or Siri. He likes his pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni, a real American. With your AK-15, there you feel free. If only the police had guns, they could defend themselves. Beating up his wife and kid didn't quite do it for Logical Fallacy any more; that was years of ordinary hassle, all the violence and making up. He was as tired as an old construction worker. So Logical Fallacy took his weapons out where people walked on sidewalks, breathing in the air and talking about their kids. He hated that they breathed. He was Bruce Willis in an elevator shaft, white guy out to save the world. They're all terrorists, even the blonds. Logical Fallacy had been taught that showing is more effective than telling, so he knocked a hole in the glass and gazed through his rifle sight. There wasn't much to see except those others breathing. He'd take care of that. By the time the cops came in, he'd have saved the world and gone to heaven. And they did.
Logical Fallacy owns a gun. Logical Fallacy sets himself upon the world to correct its errors of precision and truthfulness, because there are conspiracies afoot. What really happened was something you can't imagine, even if you believe it. Like pedophile pizza makers supporting HRC. Logical Fallacy wants to write an honest sentence, too, one so full of detail you wouldn't need a GPS or Siri. He likes his pizza with mushrooms and pepperoni, a real American. With your AK-15, there you feel free. If only the police had guns, they could defend themselves. Beating up his wife and kid didn't quite do it for Logical Fallacy any more; that was years of ordinary hassle, all the violence and making up. He was as tired as an old construction worker. So Logical Fallacy took his weapons out where people walked on sidewalks, breathing in the air and talking about their kids. He hated that they breathed. He was Bruce Willis in an elevator shaft, white guy out to save the world. They're all terrorists, even the blonds. Logical Fallacy had been taught that showing is more effective than telling, so he knocked a hole in the glass and gazed through his rifle sight. There wasn't much to see except those others breathing. He'd take care of that. By the time the cops came in, he'd have saved the world and gone to heaven. And they did.
--1 January 2018
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