A General Lack of Writing Ability

The Wedding

I'm writing this in a shallow pool of what I hope to god is my own blood. I know that sounds weird at best and like a cheesy horror movie at worst, but there really isn't any other way of putting it. Everything's dingy and kinda moist. I really don't appreciate it.

Ironically, this all started with me buying the pair of pants im wearing part of right now (The other half is lying a couple feet away with its respective part of my leg.) It was a saturday morning, I think. Middle of summer, when it burns your feet to touch the sidewalk. I was in the mall, around a couple of the department stores.

I like shopping for clothes, kinda. I mean, not like in a girly way or anything. I'm not a girl. I just think it's important what you cover up with. So I was looking around for a new pair of dress pants. I'd ripped a hole the rough size of Texas in the ass of my old ones, and I wasn't too keen on wearing that to my sister's wedding. Ok, maybe I was, but I can guarantee you even now that she would have killed me if I had. So I got into Yonkers, and found myself this nice pair of Khaki pants. I made sure they were 32 34, and headed off to the cashier. I remember asking her, "How much?"

"Look at the tag," She said back, and I couldn't help but feel a little annoyed. I mean, she works there, right? She's supposed to be the one looking for the tag. Besides, it's not like I'M gonna calculate sales tax or anything like that. I'm the customer! So I say back to her: "I dunno, you find it."

She didn't say a whole lot after that. I'm pretty sure she was pissed at me, but, I mean, I wasn't the one being rude. So I buy my pants, and I kind of look back at the girl, who'd gone back onto her phone. I know I haven't said it, but I'm pretty sure you're keen enough to picture this girl like she was. Like 17, long ponytailed hair, chewing on what I assumed to be a wad of bubblegum. A real bitchy type. Anyway, I looked back at her, and I just had to think to myself: Why do employees think they can get away with making customers do half the work? That'll be important later, I promise. I promise because I got an answer to that question just about 10 minutes afterwards

I think I need to speed things up, because the pool is getting less shallow, and I've figured out it's definitely my blood. At least principally. I think I've got time left, but my penmanship gets worse with blood loss.

So anyway, I got my new pants. I went back out to my car, and I was off to the wedding. As I turned into the church parking lot, and pulled open the double doors, I couldn't help but notice something. There was a thick red mush about the floor, with bits of cloth strewn through it. Fucking disgusting, is what it was. I tried to be stealthy in my inspection of the room, but it was kinda hard with my dress shoes (which cost a lot, by the way) squelching as loudly as they were. As I walked through the rows, I saw more of the same, with the red shit, until I made it to the last row. Some idiot had just left a severed head there. I'll admit, I was pretty shaken, especially since it gave me a general idea what I'd been stepping in up to that point. I was so focused on that elephant in the room, that I didn't see the guy come up behind me. I didn't even get to turn around to stop him from throwing the rag across my mouth. I could've totally taken him.

I woke up on this giant black stone slab with my arms and legs tied down. The only bright side I could figure from it is that at least the stone matched my snazzy ass new pants. There was a big dude over me with a curved knife. "How's it going?" he asked me. I was still pretty confused about the whole thing, so I just shrugged and went "You know... Ok, I guess." I was pretty eloquent, given the pain in my head and the fact that he was moving towards my leg with the knife. That was gonna be a problem pretty soon, but before that happened, a certain someone walked in. It was my sister! I have no clue why she was here, but you could imagine I was kinda pissed when she gave beefy mc-big knife the go ahead. Do you know how much it hurts to get your leg cut off? Cause it's a lot. Especially when you got a butter knife going at the job.

So yeah, the dude cuts my leg off, and I'm really not feeling that. I mean, I was feeling my leg get cut off, but I wasn't feeling it in the sense that... You get the idea. So there I was, one leg down. Lucky me, though, the big guy was nice enough to close the wound, setting his knife down on the stone slab so he could do so. You know already that didn't last super long, but it was pretty nice of him anyway. Made me feel bad when I had to kill him. Sorry, getting ahead of myself. So, after I got my leg hacked off, I was reasonably pissed at the dude. "What the fuck man," I said, "those were my new pants!" He seemed kinda disappointed with himself, and I'll quick say I was disappointed in him too. He began to release my restraints, and a smaller guy walked in in his place, waving off the beefy guy. The smaller guy had a clipboard and a pencil in his hand. He started talking for a really long time.

I'm pretty sure he was saying something like "Oh! I'm so cool, I'm really smart. I'm creating some Frankenstein's monster thing. Also, I'm marrying your sister, so there's that. Also I'm a big fuckin' nerd and I hate showers, apparently." First off, I will answer your questions. No, I did not know who my sister was marrying, and so naturally, I also would not know about his crazy death cult. Also yes, I am awesome.

Eventually, the guy told me he was gonna take over the world, and that he wasn't gonna kill me since I was his brother in law. Jokes on him though, because I definitely was too pissed to take the same approach once I got him onto the ground. Again, ahead of myself (not by much this time, though.) He asked me to grab the knife and give it to him, so he could get to the other guys he had strapped up down there. I don't know if you were paying attention to the earlier parts of the story, and honestly, I'm too woozy now to remember them myself, but I got that rage that starts deep inside your soul. Let me tell you why:

This dude cut off my leg.

He wrecked my shoes.

He cut up my pants.

He made me lock eyes with the severed head of some poor dick.

He made me drive downtown to the church for pretty much no reason.

And now he was telling ME to do HIS job‽

Needless to say, I tackled the fucker. I grabbed my leg off the stone slab and just started beating the shit out of him with it. My shoe started putting a dent in his forehead, and his screaming stopped pretty god damn quick after that. There was a bunch of gross shit all over the steel toe, but, let's be honest, at this point that ship had sailed clean the fuck away.

So yeah, I killed my brother in law. The big guy comes back in, this time with no shirt on. Isn't important, I just remember thinking why? Why doesn't he have a shirt on? He seemed sad that I'd killed the smart one, and so he came at me. Lucky me, the knife was still on the table, so I just quick grabbed it and stuck it right into his eye when he came lunging. This guy was a trooper though. He took the knife right out of his eye (or lack thereof,) and stabbed me in the leg he'd just helped sow up. I was able to knock him away, and arm myself with my leg again. When he came at me, I slipped under his shoulder, falling back against the ground (on account of my missing half a leg.) Luckily, though, I was able to wrap my leg around the guy's neck, and so I-

Shit.

Ok, so I'm writing from a bit later now. Good news: I'm safe in the hospital. Bad news, my sister's going to court for attempted murder. Good news part two: I can sue the shit out of her. Anyway, back to the story.

So there I am, choking out big guy, when my sister comes in. She says some shit about how she 'hates me' and is 'gonna kill me for that' when she saw I was lying face up on the now crushed head of her now ex husband. She storms out, and I'm just barely able to choke out the big guy. I kinda felt bad, but I had bigger problems to worry about. I had some time though, so I grabbed the dead guy's clipboard, which I'm now realizing had a lot more blood and brain matter on it than I thought it did while I was writing on it. So anyways, I write the story up to the place I had it, and then my sister shows back up. I'd already been bleeding a good amount by this point, so when she shot me in the stomach, it was kinda whatever. Glad she did it though, because it was loud enough for someone to hear, and sirens started going off pretty much immediately. I passed out before the police showed up, but apparently my dumbass bitch of a sister didn't subscribe to the 'double tap' methodology of fratricide. Because of that error, I was able to make it here, finish writing this out, and will hopefully get enough money to buy myself a pair of pants for her next wedding.