lets not fight shall we? charles vs. OD part 2 or one or what?
"yOU CAN DO WHATEVER you fUCKING WANT, WHY ARE YOU doing this??????".\, Charles questioned.
"Look, man, leave me alone, I have to go. damnit.", I have aerrands to do. I replied.
"how come You have to go out and get fucked up all the time, dammit, man... fuck.", what;'s with all that, I mean, you used to not have to do this, now it's like... twenty fuckin' four seven and I do't know what we're gonna do with you.".. Charles spoke back with a tad of urgency in his voice, while his cell phone dropped in and out of good reception.
"Get in a different spot, man... I can't fucking hear you, where are you???", I replied again, getting louder and louder with each word and listemning to the static go up and down as his words slid through the phonelines and dripped into my waiting ears.
"WHAT IN hell, are you doing, where's my deadline, where's my Vegas, MAN???", Charles asked me in that stoner talk way that i always listened to back then.
"I dunno, where's my contract"... I popped back", "What the heck you gonna do for me, I don't need any hardware, I don't need any software and the last time i kicked out an article to you for a deadline, you freaking stiffed me because of international transfer rates and the difference between the Euro and the Dollar. Get your ass back to New York or SF, or L.A., and we'll go from there, you like the Nighlife and I need money, damnit."
"WHAOH, WHOAH WHOAH, just... whoah, man. all this stuff is getting you very upset. can I get you a callgirl, hmmm??? make you happy ? Make you feel a whole lot better."
"You need food? Whats gong on, what can I get for you, you KNOW my plastic plays like money over there. Berlin or NOT, damnit, what are you gonna do to change this all together too repetitous crap?". Charles lit a cig after that last fuming.
"Well, I Have no clue", I said back
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BOY???". Only joking Charles prodded me, made me mad. I know when the words come out. I know when the words talk, when they talk to me, I let them out, When they want out, they get out, and that's the way it's always been, the way it always will be, forever and ever. That's simply the way it should be, and IS. I cannot fight it.
"You do realize that i cannot deal with this shit, Charles?, You do know that I'm getting tired, right? And your crap pay for dirty work that I always get hell for because I was so fucked up and you needed your damn story... It ISN'T FAIR. Why can;'t I be left alone to do my work, Why don't you hook me up with E3, or that Expo down in southern california, it would be a rad shot. I don't play that many games, and I want to get back in. At least let me go to some freakin' rock shows, I haven't been in days, MAN, DAYS.". i spoke in slower tone to as to accent my words and make them clear to him, as clear as crystal, in delivery anyways, Straight to the brain and hopefully the heart of this greedy little shit. He took 60 percent of the money from my writing. He took way TOO MUCH. It Didn't help. It didn't help me moving my mom and getting em a new pad. Been in this trailer park for 5 fucking years. READY TO MOVE, yes. READY for a vacation, EVEN MORE YES.
after some small talk, i finally cracke the prick's skin.
"what do you want to do besides the game thing, O.D.?"
he asked.
"ANYTHING, anything, get me to Vegas and Tahoe and Reno for the independent Developers Gatherings, there will be hell of partying there, and a real good story, an alternative viewpoint, you know, a new perspective."
I said back quick-like, but hopefully not too quick.
"Let's see. What can you do for me, O.D., are there any chances of us not having to get company vehicles out of impound due to TRAFFICKING", or credit cards being ripped off and bars and Eateries and restaurants and Damn hotels calling us up waiting for fees for the SHIT you do. How many more times, man, how much more of this crap do we have to go through, to where you've calmed the hell DOWN? that's something I want to know, that's something My Boss wants to know. That's something the WHOLE WORLD wants TO KNOW, ... WHEN IS O.D. Gonna get his shit together?? WHEN IS O.D. MaxSin gonna get his shit TOGETHER? When Damnit"
-Charles slams front door to his house after picking up a package from a uniformed delivery person who approached the front door when OD was talking to Charles.
"JUST.... grrrrr....", Charles grumbles in frustration, while OD giggles. "Sorry about that, O., someone was at the door, a delivery.", ...
"FAR OUT", I says back. What did you get? Something for me??? Did you get a Pizza, Keg, a Fleshlight"? I heard they're awesome. How about a Realdoll?? Get ANY GAMES??, huh, fucko??? O.D. slapped back at him while he giggled like an elitist prick.
"NO NO, Nothing like that at all, as a matter of fact, its from YOUR mailing company.... Why didn't you just send this to me direct, man, we both know how hard it is sometimes. We both know this (emotion from Charles - caring), and I know how difficult it is for you to get around over there."
"Yeah, well...",
"It ain't no Hollywood, I'll give you that much.".
O.D. sighs.
"The only thing I want from you is a few good pieces so you can eventually get the fuck outta that trailer park that people threaten you to write about in, I don't want you dead, 4 am phone calls talking about you gaffing some porno mags and beef jerky is one thing, but FOR FUCKS SAKE a CORONER is NOT AN OPTION. WHAT did you learn, 8 years in college, and what DID YOU LEARN???"
....
ummmm.
...
"geee whiz", what the heck you mean,, man???"
i bounced back like a rabbit, or a spring, or something fast.
"Don't Do SPEED", a little light bulb switched on, and pumped light onto the rooms in my head that had not been lit.
"UMNMM.... ", I paused, smoking a bong rip and looking for my Marlboro Medium 100s. "HMMM.... lets see here: What did I learn? I dunno, I learned how to write about shit from you and the instructors, and how to live by life itself. I learned that You should write about what it is that you learned and always if you have a girl, they need sex, so fuck them frequently, or they're gonna cheat on you LIKE HELL. Don't Do Speed. Don't Stop doing what you like, because it's like dying inside and even if the masses or your spouse, or your "friends", or wheo ever tells you to stop doing what you want to do, you should lie to them, or tell them you're not doing whatever it is that they don't want you to do, or at least make it seem like you're still doing that thing, but DON'T really do it, because it sucks."... i breathed in a ttad... Charles was like
"WHOAH, Slow Down, man".
I know that this can work, because it worked for me around a bunch of coke-heads.
This one batch of hippies
Off the freaking chain, but I'm off the rails and miles away from their ass.
smokin'
"Look, man, leave me alone, I have to go. damnit.", I have aerrands to do. I replied.
"how come You have to go out and get fucked up all the time, dammit, man... fuck.", what;'s with all that, I mean, you used to not have to do this, now it's like... twenty fuckin' four seven and I do't know what we're gonna do with you.".. Charles spoke back with a tad of urgency in his voice, while his cell phone dropped in and out of good reception.
"Get in a different spot, man... I can't fucking hear you, where are you???", I replied again, getting louder and louder with each word and listemning to the static go up and down as his words slid through the phonelines and dripped into my waiting ears.
"WHAT IN hell, are you doing, where's my deadline, where's my Vegas, MAN???", Charles asked me in that stoner talk way that i always listened to back then.
"I dunno, where's my contract"... I popped back", "What the heck you gonna do for me, I don't need any hardware, I don't need any software and the last time i kicked out an article to you for a deadline, you freaking stiffed me because of international transfer rates and the difference between the Euro and the Dollar. Get your ass back to New York or SF, or L.A., and we'll go from there, you like the Nighlife and I need money, damnit."
"WHAOH, WHOAH WHOAH, just... whoah, man. all this stuff is getting you very upset. can I get you a callgirl, hmmm??? make you happy ? Make you feel a whole lot better."
"You need food? Whats gong on, what can I get for you, you KNOW my plastic plays like money over there. Berlin or NOT, damnit, what are you gonna do to change this all together too repetitous crap?". Charles lit a cig after that last fuming.
"Well, I Have no clue", I said back
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, BOY???". Only joking Charles prodded me, made me mad. I know when the words come out. I know when the words talk, when they talk to me, I let them out, When they want out, they get out, and that's the way it's always been, the way it always will be, forever and ever. That's simply the way it should be, and IS. I cannot fight it.
"You do realize that i cannot deal with this shit, Charles?, You do know that I'm getting tired, right? And your crap pay for dirty work that I always get hell for because I was so fucked up and you needed your damn story... It ISN'T FAIR. Why can;'t I be left alone to do my work, Why don't you hook me up with E3, or that Expo down in southern california, it would be a rad shot. I don't play that many games, and I want to get back in. At least let me go to some freakin' rock shows, I haven't been in days, MAN, DAYS.". i spoke in slower tone to as to accent my words and make them clear to him, as clear as crystal, in delivery anyways, Straight to the brain and hopefully the heart of this greedy little shit. He took 60 percent of the money from my writing. He took way TOO MUCH. It Didn't help. It didn't help me moving my mom and getting em a new pad. Been in this trailer park for 5 fucking years. READY TO MOVE, yes. READY for a vacation, EVEN MORE YES.
after some small talk, i finally cracke the prick's skin.
"what do you want to do besides the game thing, O.D.?"
he asked.
"ANYTHING, anything, get me to Vegas and Tahoe and Reno for the independent Developers Gatherings, there will be hell of partying there, and a real good story, an alternative viewpoint, you know, a new perspective."
I said back quick-like, but hopefully not too quick.
"Let's see. What can you do for me, O.D., are there any chances of us not having to get company vehicles out of impound due to TRAFFICKING", or credit cards being ripped off and bars and Eateries and restaurants and Damn hotels calling us up waiting for fees for the SHIT you do. How many more times, man, how much more of this crap do we have to go through, to where you've calmed the hell DOWN? that's something I want to know, that's something My Boss wants to know. That's something the WHOLE WORLD wants TO KNOW, ... WHEN IS O.D. Gonna get his shit together?? WHEN IS O.D. MaxSin gonna get his shit TOGETHER? When Damnit"
-Charles slams front door to his house after picking up a package from a uniformed delivery person who approached the front door when OD was talking to Charles.
"JUST.... grrrrr....", Charles grumbles in frustration, while OD giggles. "Sorry about that, O., someone was at the door, a delivery.", ...
"FAR OUT", I says back. What did you get? Something for me??? Did you get a Pizza, Keg, a Fleshlight"? I heard they're awesome. How about a Realdoll?? Get ANY GAMES??, huh, fucko??? O.D. slapped back at him while he giggled like an elitist prick.
"NO NO, Nothing like that at all, as a matter of fact, its from YOUR mailing company.... Why didn't you just send this to me direct, man, we both know how hard it is sometimes. We both know this (emotion from Charles - caring), and I know how difficult it is for you to get around over there."
"Yeah, well...",
"It ain't no Hollywood, I'll give you that much.".
O.D. sighs.
"The only thing I want from you is a few good pieces so you can eventually get the fuck outta that trailer park that people threaten you to write about in, I don't want you dead, 4 am phone calls talking about you gaffing some porno mags and beef jerky is one thing, but FOR FUCKS SAKE a CORONER is NOT AN OPTION. WHAT did you learn, 8 years in college, and what DID YOU LEARN???"
....
ummmm.
...
"geee whiz", what the heck you mean,, man???"
i bounced back like a rabbit, or a spring, or something fast.
"Don't Do SPEED", a little light bulb switched on, and pumped light onto the rooms in my head that had not been lit.
"UMNMM.... ", I paused, smoking a bong rip and looking for my Marlboro Medium 100s. "HMMM.... lets see here: What did I learn? I dunno, I learned how to write about shit from you and the instructors, and how to live by life itself. I learned that You should write about what it is that you learned and always if you have a girl, they need sex, so fuck them frequently, or they're gonna cheat on you LIKE HELL. Don't Do Speed. Don't Stop doing what you like, because it's like dying inside and even if the masses or your spouse, or your "friends", or wheo ever tells you to stop doing what you want to do, you should lie to them, or tell them you're not doing whatever it is that they don't want you to do, or at least make it seem like you're still doing that thing, but DON'T really do it, because it sucks."... i breathed in a ttad... Charles was like
"WHOAH, Slow Down, man".
I know that this can work, because it worked for me around a bunch of coke-heads.
This one batch of hippies
Off the freaking chain, but I'm off the rails and miles away from their ass.
smokin'
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