judging from your hurtful comments - there just must be something in the air.

with an office located on the northeast corner of the 49th floor, his expanse of perpetually clean windows afforded kerry an uninterrupted vantage into the next time zone. in effect, kerry could literally see into the future from his office desk, which was advantageous in his line of work.

my office is on the 49th floor, and i am sitting on my wallet...i'm not sure where that would fall on your scale.

i'm expressing the disparity of wealth distribution in america by accentuating a short prose with an instance of a breakdown in communication between a transient and a wealthy business man who genuinely cares for the well-being of the disparaged, but lacks an understanding of the real problem. i had thought that…

told a hoboken hobo that new jersey streets were no place for transience. i placed my hand on his scruffy head, and with a gasp he raised his face to look upon me with dirty tears scattered on his cheek. he extended an upturned hand, displaying his palm to me. "please...please, sir - anything". i slapped him a…

saw the heat on the next block coming down with cherries and berries whirling about above the boxy prototypical black sedans. my two partners fled - their suit jackets flapping in the wind. i knew the score - we were cooked. the way everything happened with unison and the cars sped toward us in perfect…

the only spam bot over here is automatic deposits spamming my bank account with overwhelming relentlessness.

violin strings waned with tremolo effect as my body moved with poetic fluidity - scooping the pistol from my breast holster in slow motion. a crescendo apex reaches dizzying heights as the barrel slowly swings into place, my extended arm taut with tension.

today i'm hosting a support group for claustrophobia in my office. for some reason they find the area comforting.

how about you fetch me a cold draw, line up some coke on a stripper ass for me, and then doodle with some crayons - and we'll call it good.

damn, good catch. but yeah, other than that - it's a monster post.

he's back (thank jesus), but will tread lightly for a few days, until the heat dies down. stay strong - viva la kilos.

i want names...

you nasty sons of bitches...i can't believe you would do this to me.

i had the president of my bank construct an adult sized high-chair, much like one where a baby would sit and eat, complete with a tray secured at chest level. this high-chair was placed in the palatial bank lobby, and every now and again, i'll slip into the bank dressed as a damn baby, sit at the high-chair and count…

the man next to kerry at the neighboring urinal couldn't help but notice kerry's audible pissing. he looked at kerry's crotch as the stream spurted and sprayed like a thumb covering a hose nozzle. horrified, the man looked up to find kerry, staring right back at him with a cocky smirk painted on his face. "my god..."…

clever...but please, find yourself the line drawn between common trolling and skillful artistry and choose a category for me. they are mutually exclusive.

"watch the money pile, kerry" he said to me in a whisper, wrapping his arm about my shoulders. as we stood in front the money counter, vibrating and spitting bills into a neat piling, i realized that my banker wore the same cologne as i did.

the waitress saw my coaxing gesture and beelined for my table, where i sat enjoying a meal and brandy with a business associate. "yes mr. kilos" she started with. "excuse me, daniel" i offered to my partner across the table. removing a snub-nosed .38 of a pearl and chrome finish, and placing it on the white table…

i thrusted the smooth black barrel into the sky. my white linen shirt, opened and baring my chest and stomach blew in the wind. my other arm outstretched to the side. i leaned my head back and screamed into the sky as i clapped shot after shot at the heavens, until both the clip and my lungs were empty. i collapsed on…