ANTHOLOGY : THE GRIPPY SOCK HOTEL

BITCHES GET STITCHES, NOT SECOND CHANCES ( a multi - part work)

PROLOGUE - Dearest Liz, I walk on my own power;

or, hey Lizzieboo, 

get your tentacles off me, bitch.

I gotta let that scared, miserable girl go.

She's already been gone - 

Depart from me, Stranger.

The Raven, she I know -

She is a Protector.

May she continue to bless the bust of Pallas on my door with her Angel Wings

But the Soul that died in middle school, that keeps dragging me down, stealing my joy?

Die, Lizzie.

- I knew a Lisbeth once who did right by everyone 

except her love, the Irish maid -

Maggie was the 3rd victim - yet, she was set Free.

ACT ONE - ON NEVER SENT LETTERS, and THIEVES vs AUTHORS

Bitches get stitches, not second chances.

Dearest Elizabeth Jean, I wrote you once, ages ago, and - and -

and, actually....actually.

You know what? 

Fuck this.

And actually?

Fuck you, Liz. Fuck. You.

You are the definition of a cunt. You've always been fucking psycho NUTS! - 

- except, you're also a coward. 

You can't admit your crazy to yourself, or anyone else.

That's where you're wrong.

*Shinigami Eyes, UP*

You were Awful to me then, you're Awful to me now.

And I, I've been learning how to fight for myself.

I'm the new 007, except there never was a 007,

OR a license to kill - just a license to expose the 

Evils in you. In me. In all we do.

I fight Octopussies now, without magic bullets.

And that, that makes the tentacles go.

(to prevent these truths would be to take Karma's power).

And NOW, 

I take my left hand, mark the sign of the cross upon my neck and back,

and I aim my Poisoned Apple Arrows,

TRUE.

ACT TWO - *shotgun click*

Dot, can I bleed him?

      - Bet.

Lizzie boo, I see you, I see you True - 

and here is ALL I see in you.

You are, a jealous, ugly, fat fucking cow 

of an excuse for a woman.

I mean it. Read it again. Commit it to memory.

Isis and the scales say your soul is found Wanting.

You've always been, so, so, Ugly, to me.

Your appearance gives me the ick, but really sweaty, it's your personality.

And honestly? Because you want it so bad?

Keep Drinking.

Alcoholics like You deserve that circle of Hell.

Go on now, knock it back. Drink up.

Sip up lil baby's lil juicy juice cup.

Surely not you, who cares if now you're gray, right? or dying?

I know you love it. And truly, You Deserve It.

(keep it cheap, too, I now Boxed Wine's your style.)

A perfect drink, fitted for your blood's Pedigree.

Cheers to you, Lizzie! every sip I take, I'll

take and pour the first sip, in your dishonour.

And I'll keep being the life of the party. 

ACT THREE - 

the final couplet - here is where we part.

From the bottom of my heart, I thank you.

I really do mean that, too. Thank you.

Thank you, "friend". 

I never knew Evil had a face in this world.

But now, I know - I know it looks like you.

I never learned how to hate, before you.

Trust I will not forget.

It feels good, to love myself like this.

It feels Good to say, fuck off, and fuck you.