Thursday, October 20, 2011

I`m Making Monsters for My Friends

It starts as soon as I wake up. The clock hammers my ears with the painful reminder that I must deal with yet another day of fighting off monsters created by the corp. machine of Japan. I look at the choices of suits hanging from the bedroon sliding door. Those damn suits...those fucking weapons of mass murder which kill part of me daily. They call me with the same death blow chants; `Hi bitch. Remember me? Yeah, come over here and offer up your body to the gods of greed and social murder.` My body moves but my mind refuses to play ball. I need chemicals in order to do this again. I fill my body with coffee and Lucky Strikes. No time for food; no time for you!

After a quick shit, shower and shave out the door I go. Another day of having a little Japanese dick rammed into my asshole for the benefit of some old fucker who lives on some remote tropical island. I bleed and he breeds. With each part that dies he, and his stripe, get fat from my blood sweat and tears. My madness is his pleaure. All of this and I have not even got on my first train yet.

At my home station I wait for the daily death ride to start. There are no smiles or the gentle warmth of the human experience. Only cold blank stares and hatred of the masses are to be found at the hangman`s waiting room. As the train arrives a  massive fight for a seat goes down. I get pushed punched and rib knocked as my fellow rogues attempt to stomp me into dust. I survive...this pisses everyone off. With each train I jump on, not into, the battle become more intense. They are out to get me I tell you! My death would provide entertainment for the masses of asses who long ago were beat into the slime of the earth. I am shit...but they are the slime crusted dicks and bitches who make our city the dark twisted place it is today. They would kill me if they thought they would get away with it. If they thought killing me would benefit them, I would surely be a dead man by sundown. Yet, somehow I make it to the school of no choice for the day.

I enter the so-called school and attain the title of exploited gaijin whore. Never am I considered a `real teacher.` At best, I can hope to be considered the gaijin with a brain. Real teachers must be Japanese and work in the systemtic shit hole known as the Japanese public school system. As long as I am everyone`s favorite monkey who makes students giggle all is well. Fuck that I say...I am actually going to attempt to teach something. Of course, the harder I try the more of an asshole I am in the eyes of elite fucks who have a golden Japanese dick in their ass. These gaijin pricks who long ago sold out consider me to be the `Black Sheep` in the company. Black Sheep I may be but sell out...EVER!

My clear resistence to the machine which produces brain dead shitheads does not pervent them from putting the weight of the world on my shoulders. Oh yeah! I am expected to save the company`s ass by using my magic to make a full house of students show up everyday. If my gaijin magic fails then I am a worthless pile of Korean dog shit. It is believed that gaijin have some magic power which can force students to show up and pay money. If that does not happen then clearly I am not using my magic and I am selfish. Come on gaijin! Use your magic and make us money. Don`t be selfish! We know you have magic powers. Yeah, fuck you too! In fact, fuck all of yall!

Yet, I do give credit where credit is due. `Hard Times` has been brought from the pages to real life. Damned if you do and damned if you don`t.

Yes...I`m making monsters for my friends.