I have piles of books, dragged up by myself and my friends, that are guaranteed to kill brain cells.
A few of the titles: "The Flies of Memory", "Garbage World" (possibly drawing the flies?), "The Space Egg", and "The Port of Peril".
Seriously, how can anyone NOT read those?!
wow... now I kind of want to check out whether they're available on Kindle... though leaving them sitting on a coffee table to disturb unsuspecting guests would be awesome as well
chapter 1 of the worst novel ever written
Initially, I'd tried to kill myself because life is fucking depressing... you hit 25 and you start to wonder "is this all that there is? have I gotten a quarter of the way through my life and I still haven't accomplished a damned thing worth writing home about?"... those thoughts kind of stuck in my head after I turned 25 and I decided after a night of convincing lecherous old men to buy me drinks to take the easy way out... an overdose of sleeping pills washed down with some rum should work shouldn't it?
it didn't work all of the way, but I think it worked a bit, because I saw Death and Death was HOT. I'm going to assume that you've seen Meet Joe Black, where Death is played by Brad Pitt and you wonder in the back of your mind how many teenage girls tried to off themselves because they wanted Brad Pitt... Death made Brad Pitt look like Mickey Rourke. Unfortunately, dying didn't take and I just ended up waking up in a pool of my own vomit, which is a lot less sexy- not to mention cold and slimy.
I kept thinking about Death though... in a way it sort of gave me something to work towards which I had been lacking. Meeting Death again was more important to me than my dead end chain of jobs, more important than remembering that I was trying to teach myself to play the guitar... Death nearly killed my houseplants without lifting a single sexy, sexy finger! Maybe next time I died for a while I could work up the courage to talk to him... it's not like I could die of embarrassment if I was already dead.
Next time I decided to kill myself I put on some makeup and brushed my hair first... I even put on some clean and wrinkle free clothes which showed some cleavage, which is a sacrifice when you have to dig under the futon and through your car to find enough change for the laundry mat. After all, I wanted to make a good impression and cleavage has always worked on men in the past... shouldn't it work on Death as well?
I tried my hardest to look sexy as I drank a bottle of 2008 California petite syrah that I'd found on sale at the liquor store to wash down the pills... after all, I'm pretty sure that Death usually sees people at their least attractive and might appreciate a pretty face for once! I ignored the adage about assuming and just assumed that this would work... and as I faded out and saw Death get closer and closer I smiled and tried not to sound lame...
"Who needs 72 virgins when you're the one who greets us?"
I wish... as lame as that is it's still better than the "hey" and blush while staring at my not really solid anymore feet... I even suck at pick up lines when drunk AND dead which kind of makes it a miracle that if I were to permanently die I wouldn't be stuck in a stable of virgins waiting to dote over some dead suicide bomber.
Death acually smiled back and laughed... I don't think that he was used to people trying to hit on him... I'm guessing that they were normally screaming and crying that they didn't WANT to die. Probably the reason that my dad married my mom... she was the first woman to EVER smile at an IRS auditor in the history of all women, so he decided that he'd better take her off the market.
"Hey yourself" Death responded (making me feel a lot better about my icebreaker since his reply was just as lame) "why aren't you afraid of me?"
Dear God... Death sounded exactly like Antonio Banderas... and looked something like if a young Antonio had gotten stuck in one of those matter transporters from The Fly with a younger Pierce Brosnan... I considered swooning... it shouldn't be LEGAL for a man to be this attractive!
"I actually am just stopping by to see you" I replied, hoping that I wasn't slurring my words. "I met you last week and thought that you probably don't get many friendly visitors wherever here is, so I decided to change that a bit!" I flashed him my most charming "buy me a drink" smile in hopes that it would mask how nervous I was feeling. Was I really trying to pick up Death? What the hell is wrong with me?!
"You would be right there" responded Death, sexily "I kind of have to wonder- are you a goth? They are usually the only girls who actually actively try to seek out and woo Death, but you don't really LOOK like one. I'm really confused as to why you would intentionally seek me out after escaping last time."
"Let me explain..." I began, which is possibly the worst way to EVER begin an explanation since it usually involves things like "and that cop was totally unfair!" and ends with "so you see, it's not really my fault." I told Death that he was possibly the most attractive thing I had ever seen and that I really was curious and wanted to get to know him a bit better... which actually managed to be even more awkward than it sounds.
At least it made him smile... and at that point I faded back into the living...