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“Hey Little Birdy, come and make an old man happy.” (Dweller Chapter 14)

“Hey little birdy, come and make an old man happy. Remember that? I’ll bet you do.” I was glad that finally I could unleash that saying so that maybe, just maybe, it’ll finally stop playing back like a broken record inside of a broken person. It wasn’t going to go away on its own. I had realized that by now. I needed to stop hearing it. I would do anything to stop hearing it.
Father chuckled dryly. “I didn’t think that you would remember. It was just the one time, well, that you saw anyways. How the Hell…”
“I didn’t have to remember. I still hear it. At first it drove me nuts because I didn’t know what it was or what it meant. I tried to shut it out but it just wouldn’t leave me alone and now I know why. It took me a long time to piece it together amidst everything else that was happening around me but I finally came around and understood what it was and you know what that is?”
“What?” Father was studying his fingernails, feigning disinterest.
“The final straw. That’s when everything inside of me decided to shut down because of what I saw that one day. I didn’t know it then. Fuck, I didn’t know it until now but yeah, that’s what did it. It wasn’t enough to lose my mother and to have a father that beat me senselessly when he wasn’t playing with the shadows in the cellar. It wasn’t enough that everyone in the fucking world despised me. But that did it. I felt that you should know that.”
Father looked at me nervously then went back to tending his nails. “Hmph.”
“Funny thing,” I continued, stepping closer to him, “that now that I can remember her back then it didn’t seem like she had any pain, that she suffered in any way. She hid it well, she didn’t want me to know what was really going on but you should see her now. And what just fucking kills me is that she could have been an angel, you know…right? You may not think about it or even remember but she could have been, oh yeah, just like mother. But no…not now…not after you had trashed her fucking soul. She was a flower of a girl and you peeled all of her away, pedal by pedal. And now she sleeps with the fucking devil.”
“What the fuck do you want from me, huh?” Father asked, arms spread. “I gave you answers. I gave you everything. What’s done is done. It’s gone. Forget about it.”
I stepped even closer, enough to make him start to step back. “She still follows me, comes to me. You probably already knew that always hiding in the bushes watching me maybe watching her too. But she is not the same girl and I am not the same guy and I don’t need to think about it to know that it was all because of you and it was that part of me that knew this day would come that haunted me by replaying that one time again and again.”
Father sighed. “The day that….that…”
“AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!” I shouted as I moved forward, forcing my father back again down the walkway. He looked behind him to make sure that he still had space to move back. “Yes, that must have been the final straw. That’s when the wall came up, just like in the cellar, the black wall in my mind. And now there is only one thing that will make it go away.”
“You already know everything.”
“I need to hear it from you, from your voice, face to face, right now. You owe it to her. You owe it to me. For all the things that you have done, I don’t think that it’s asking for much at all. I need you to tell me that you’re fucking sorry.”

That’s One Piss That I’m Glad I’ve Taken

Late night at the bar.
I walked out of the bathroom
and there were bodies
all over the floor
moaning and
bleeding.

Smashed bottles lay everywhere.
Every table was overturned.
Somebody was trying to crawl
off the pool table and
the bartender was crying.

A man on the floor
on his stomach
was trying to reach out for me
holding his jaw.

There was a pool cue
sticking out of his back.

As I leaned down to
yank it out
I said to him,
“Well,
that’s one piss
that I’m glad I’ve taken.”

How I Open Doors For Hipsters

I open doors for hipsters
when they’re on a bike
and I’m in a car.

You had to get it just right.
Timing was everything.
It wasn’t easy.
I don’t think that most people would
appreciate how much of an art form
it really is.

The hardest part was getting close enough
to be effective
without them noticing.

First off,
you had to drive an unassuming car.
It couldn’t have looked like anything from Mad Max
or something equally as menacing.
The doors had to have heft
but not enough to lag when attempting to open it quickly
and the longer the door the better.
That’s why two door coupes always worked the best.

Routes were easy to pick.
Universities and downtown areas
were always abundant.
Otherwise anywhere with coffee would do.

Targeting them was even easier.
Visual assessment was Fast and Furious (Vin)
thanks to the beard
the absurdly large sunglasses
the sweater vest
the knitted cap
the legs rotating the pedals like an
awkward malnourished chicken.

The key was that
you needed two people
that were able to really work well together.
Team spirit, you know.

“Look, look, look! There’s one there, see him?”
“Short ginger fuck that dresses like Kanye west? Yeah, I got this.”
“He’s gonna get it good.”
“Fucker’s going sailing without a ship.”

You rev up beside him
closer…closer
maybe just a little closer
and then WHAM!
You had to really lean into it
against the wind and
manage to close it afterwards
with you still inside
but it was worth it
every time.

It didn’t take much
as we weren’t trying to murder anybody here
a slight little light maiming would do.

Feeling the impact of the door,
the vibration, the moment of reaching out
and connecting on so personally a level
even the little squeak the hipster FUCK made
as they flew off the bike towards an unforgiving curb
was absolutely enthralling
so rapturous that
everything was hushed afterwards
like the crowd before erupting to a winning goal.

It felt like God was watching.

“Right into the fire hydrant, Damn!”
“Fuck yeah! Blame the media, Hipster, blame your MOTHER!”

There was nothing quite like it.
It gave you shivers down your spine
and made you want to do it again
immediately
but most times you couldn’t as
once they caught on
the fun would be over
so you waited
until the time was right
and you always knew when that was.
You just knew…

and when it came
you picked up the phone
and called your buddy
giving them a pick-up point
with the advice:
make sure you aren’t followed.

Then you get behind the wheel.
You slide on the leather gloves
turn on the engine
listen to it purr with eyes closed
feel the rhythm the heartbeat of the car
feel one with the car
your doors will connect today
they will…

then crank up the Insane Clown Posse.

Now you’re ready to start hunting

AUTHOR’S NOTE: This poem is not intended to offend anybody but Chad.

When Big Things Become Small and Small Things Become Big

Your skin grows thicker
over time.

What bothered you
ten years ago
wouldn’t bother you now.

All of those big deals
that
you used to tear your hair out
over
they become small.

They become nothing.

While at the same time
all of the small things
that made you smile
day by day
that kept you going
no matter what
they become large.

They become everything.

Heartbreaker

She didn’t just break your heart,

she stomped on it
purposefully
against the curb
then set it on fire
with a blowtorch
and a mad grin
until it was well done
eating it
afterwards
at a fine restaurant
casually piercing it with
silverware
between long sips of
red wine
and tossing the scraps
to the dogs
while laughing
maniacally
at the moon.

Buying My First Smartphone

“Here’s your new phone.”
“It’s looking at me funny!”
“That’s probably your own reflection.”
“Where are all the buttons?”
“It doesn’t have any.”
“What kind of witch-magic is this?!”

I gave the phone a shake.
Nothing happened.
Nothing came out.
All the witches must still be inside.
I shook it harder
then stuffed it down my pants.

The store clerk was looking at me
like I just murdered his Chihuahua
with a sledgehammer
and then ate it.

Cracking Open A Fresh Box of Wine

Her face is stark white like a fresh sheet
sailing happy blank eyes summer sky blue
white pearls packed together everywhere
between her balloon watermelon lips.

It’s mesmerizing,
you become captivated
and start to writhe about like a charmed snake.

That’s the lady that works the Sobeys wine store
by far one of the most jovial
perpetually rapturously excited
overwhelmingly joyous
Hallelujah’s
that I have ever encountered.

Her moon face is always lit up
brighter than a solar flare
streaking across the midnight of my existence.

I quickly snatch my box
away from her smile but not before
checking my hair in her teeth.

I growl
and rush out of the store
peering at everybody suspiciously.

They want my wine.
Even though there are boxes of boxes
stacked everywhere in plain sight
where I just came from
they want mine.

Those fuckers
are not getting shit from me.

I hold it tight against my chest
right beside my heartbeat
and make for the door.

mmmyyyy wwwwiinnnne.
Mee luuuuuvvvss meee wwiiinnnee.
Sooo preccciious.

In anticipation
I tear open the box
and crack the seal on the spout
in the car
making strange mewling noises.

No, there’s nothing wrong with me
at all.

I get home kick open the door
slam the box on the counter and
quickly check out some bondage action on my phone.

Grabbing a glass from the cupboard
is always an exercise in delicate judgement
it has to be the right one
but since I only have two types to choose from
forget that I fucking said anything.

Then…THEN…
there’s the first pour.

The first pour is always the best.
It doesn’t just stream out,
It GUSHES out like a CANON or
like water BLASTING from a CRACK in a DAM!!

It’s like a MIRACLE of GOD!
A freshly spread VIRGIN!
A volcano in the soul erupting loud colours
across the cement hue of stubborn February.

Makes you just want to
spray it up into your face while laughing maniacally
spray it out into eternity
while laughing at your own nothingness
shoot it out into the streets
let the people dance when not murdering
each other’s spirit
as trumpets blared
angels sang
and midgets danced.

As it comes out straight from a heaven
that you will never see

you just want to pour it
all over your
fucking soul.