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Daddy had a life long friend,
Tee vee was his name,
Glass of cider, fightin' films,
Adverts were his bane.
The lounge and couch was where he sat,
Morning, noon or night.
Though we all knew the secrets,
So we would win the fight.
Cartoons took a gentle hand,
As he dropped off to sleep.
Head on chest and snoring now,
The remote we'd nick and keep.
One computer, three of us,
We were always going to fight.
A packet of crisps munched in the lounge,
Wins the computer that night.
He used to take us to the park,
Prior to Sunday dinner.
We would swing upon the swings,
The highest was the winner.
He bought us sweets to eat at home,
They were gone in seconds flat.
He never told mum of our crimes
And gave our heads a pat.
Every Sunday we would toast,
'To the chef' we'd cheer'
But he would sit there muttering,
'Your turn next week dear'.
He never used to shout and scream,
The way that Mummy could,
Though I heard him swear once,
When Chittys hood blew up.
We are older and partying
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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