Trying to convince me that they really really care

Rage subsides, like always.

It’s replaced by a murky, heavy disdain.

People obey their greedy, black, shriveled hearts as they have since time immemorial. They disappoint without fail. One step forward, fifteen steps back.

But fuck it, you know?

That’s why god created fatalism.


“Whatcha reading?” She asked me. This is why I don’t go outside.

The book says THE ROAD on the front, in giant red block letters. By Cormac McCarthy.

“A book called The Road. It’s by the guy who wrote All the Pretty Horses. Do I know you?”

“No. That was my not-so-subtle way of introducing myself.”

Ah, gotcha. She waited for me to say something.

“Ah, gotcha.”

“What’s it about, your book?”

“A father and son, going on a journey together.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds nice.”

“Yeah not really. There’s murder, starvation, despair… depravity, suicide. Nuclear winter.”

“Sounds like a fun book.”

“Cannibalism too. Lots of cannibalism.”


“Seriously. Tons of cannibalism. Probably the most cannibalism I’ve ever seen in a book.”


“Yeah. They cook a baby at one point. It’s like Lord of the Flies without the sense of humor.”

Lord of the Flies has a sense of humor?”

“Compared to this it does.”

“Yeah. Well, enjoy your… book.”

“See ya.”

Poor girl probably thought I was just an asshole.
She’s probably right. There really is a ton of cannibalism though. And they do cook a baby.

Be sure to recommend it to your book club.



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