Hate me or love me don’t like me

I adjusted my binoculars and the far bank came into view. It was smeared in lies and the blood of the trendy, the brand new hanging from their ancestral trees by their umbilical cords so they wouldn’t stray too far into reality and the outside world. The stacks of Bibles underneath their tiny feet; just inches from touching their dangling toes and saving their stagnated lives. The oxygen cut to their brains, no thoughts, only the sweet intoxication of oxygen depravation and the fumes of ignorance sifting through their gaping nose holes.

“Ahoy, you cocksuckers,” I cried and waved my free arm madly.

There of course was no response and so I turned my attention to the bridge I’d crossed, yes the one that connected this side to that side, the past to future, love to hate. I could still see my foot prints wet with the mucus of my new birth on the rotted planks that along with rope woven from hope formed the rickety structure.

I unscrewed the left lens of my binoculars which was really a hollow compartment filled with a quite potent accelerant known to cause tumors in lab monkeys. I doused the bridge at my end with the noxious fluid and lit it with the Bic I carried in my tube sock. The bridge disappeared in a wave of golden flames.

The ones on the other side cursed and screeched hideously at me, saying I’d done them wrong. Perhaps I had. Perhaps I hand’t. The how’s and why’s no longer concerned me. There was no longer a way for them to get to me.

I tossed my binoculars in the river and watched them float away. I was no longer who they said I was but who I wanted to be. I smiled, like cannibals do, when a rump roast is set on their bamboo place mat. There was something waiting out there for me on this side of the river and now it was time to rent a rickshaw and a willing Igor type to pull me into my new life.