Nemeses

Ryan meets Jeremy for breakfast at a diner. Ryan complains that he’s sick of living at home, has an mediocre job, but doesn’t have the money to afford an apartment. Jeremy also complains that he can’t find steady work and his parents are about to kick him out. A man leaves a newspaper behind, Ryan grabs it on a whim and notices a cheap house for sale. They grin and decide to buy it.

They meet this the old man selling the house, sign some papers and get the keys.
“I think it’s only fair to warn you boys. This house has a certain timeless quality to it. The last owners, a young man and a young woman, they couldn’t handle it. They left.”
Jeremy and Ryan shrug off this warning.

They spend a night in the house. Watch some TV, have a few beers, Jeremy goes upstairs, Ryan downstairs. Ryan lies down then starts hearing some creaking footsteps, he looks above him, shrugs and goes to sleep. Jeremy upstairs hears the same creaking, sits up and looks around, likewise shrugs and goes back to bed.

Come morning, Ryan is in the shower. He gets out and sees through the mirror the reverse angle of a door creaked open, what looks like a naked Jeremy crouched outside. Startled, he turns around fast and swings the door wide open and no one’s there. He goes into Jeremy’s room, he’s still sleeping. Ryan is suspicious, but merely leaves, puts on a tie, one last check then leaves for work.

Late at night, Ryan comes home, Jeremy is waiting on the couch, lights dim, Ryan comes home, finally. Jeremy jokingly says “Missed you for dinner, hon!” Ryan is still a bit wary, “Hey listen, I’ve got some pretzels in my room I’m just going to munch on, I’ve got to run out again in the morning.”
“Since when do you work all the time?”
“”Oh, I, uh, this doesn’t happen too often, you know. Every other week really, but I’m pretty busy again tomorrow.” Ryan closes the door. Opens it. “Hey this is kind fo weird, but were ah, were you looking at me in the shower this morning, dude?”
“What?! No!”
“Um ok. Goodnight.” Door closes.
Sitting there, Jeremy’s eyes start drooping, his head logs, suddenly mid-dropp he sees Ryan’s face and hands pressed up against the window, making weird faces, it looks bruised and bloody with a giant slash down the middle. Jeremy does a double take and it’s gone. Jeremy is kind of shaken up, shakes his head and goes to bed.

Next day, Ryan is in the kitchen, puts a pot out. He sees Jeremy’s reflection, face cut up, shirt off, behind him in the pot, turns around quick and he isn’t there. He starts getting pissed, wakes Jeremy up.
“What the fuck.”
“Wh-wha? What are you-what are you doing in my room?”
“You were sneaking in on me in the shower yesterday and now you’re in the kitchen creepin on me? What the fuck.”
“Dude go away, I don’t have work today.”
“Right. Well I do have work. Don’t scare the shit out of me like that again.”

Ryan comes back again late at night. Jeremy says nothing.
“You work today?”
“No, I told you that this morning.”
“Well…then what did you do all day?”
“Uh…not much.”
“Well, why don’t you work on finding a fucking job so I don’t have to pay our whole bills this month.”
“Hey dude, what’s up, I’m trying.”
“No, you’re not, you’re not trying, I’m fucking sick of you goofing around all day while I work my ass off all day.”
“Shit dude. Calm down. We talked about this, you knew my situation coming in here.”
“Well, get it done.”
“You working tomorrow?”
“No.” Ryan goes in his room closes the door.

Again, Jeremy is almost asleep, turns off TV, in the screen that’s left is reflecting Ryan looming behind him, covered in blood, face slit down the middle. Jeremy turns around really fast but sees nothing there. He checks behind the couch, nothing. He rushes in Ryan’s room and shakes him up.
“Hey you yell at me messing around, what the fuck was that?”
“What the fuck, why are you still awake?!”
“And you in the bushes last night! Are you kidding me?”
“Listen you rat shit, you stay up all fucking night watching bullshit and then dare fucking say that I’m fucking around? Get the fuck out of my house.”
“what?”
“I’m paying all the bills anyway, get the fuck out.”
Jeremy shoves Ryan. Ryan shoves back. They start throwing punches and wrestle into the kitchen. Ryan grabs a knife.
“What the hell are you?”
“Hey, calm down, man” Jeremy stammers. Ryan lunges, his knife catches Jeremy's shirt and rips it open. Jeremy tears it off then grabs a knife of his own as Ryan comes in again. They push each other over to the couch when Ryan finally connects and rings Jeremy through the gut. With his last bit of strength Jeremy slices Ryan's face down the middle and then slits his throat. They both lie behind the couch, dead.

Symmetrical Heart Tracklist

1. Antacid Tablet
2. Sarah
3. This Song is Filler
4. Whost
5. Symmetrical Heart
6. Whost (refrain)
7. This Song is Filler
8. Itty Bitty
9. Booger (that's me)
10. This Song is Filler
11. This Song is Filler

Sarah

Sarah, she is as pretty as a picture
Sarah, she is so perfect just for me
Sarah, she isn't Tara
Because that Tara is a double-crossing bitch.

Whost

Whost! What does it mean? We don't know
Ghosts! What are they made of? We don't care
Most! Of the lyrics in this song suck
Toast! How do you make it? A toast-air.

Booger (that's me)

Accountability; that's the job for me
You're the only one that I'd let watch me pee (who would yout let watch you pee)
Take a chance on me;
You can let me be;
The best booger
(that's me)

You're the only one who treats me right;
You give me all your ooooo empathy
I'm a real animal
Booger (that's me)

Dr Guo MDB.... the extra b is for byobb

I've been attending midnight psychiatry for 3 years now... it was an alternative to incarceration for some murders I did on a mushroom trip.... mushroom tip... what? Anyway its going really well. Dr. Guo told me that murder is wrong, but mushrooms aren't necessarily wrong. "Do you have any now" he asked. I said no... but one of the listeners called in a dealer he knew... and Dr. Guo left... I got some taco bell and when he came back he was very fearful. He tried to charge me $3,400 for the session.... I made up the difference in food stamps. Life can be hurtful I guess.

On the matter of Cookie Sirico

My castration date is 7/4/2006... Remove me from the bondage of penis... my son... my son Kandwell he's not an NFL running back... what a failure... he was the 7th born... and the 7th worst.... I wanted to live vicariously through him topping emmitt smith's yardage record... he has wronged me... and you know what he wants to go into... architecture! architecture! Why don't you just drive a knife through my heart you ungrateful bastard... all the times I hit you until you did what I wanted... what's best for you... well I HAVE NO SON... except for the other 6... (Emmit Smith, Barry Sanders, Walter Payton, Curtis Martin, Marshall Faulk, and Jerome Bettis) They're passable sons.... Lucifer put me on a strict diet of lard and cigarette butts... Kandwell will go on it too until I can beat some vicarious pleasure into him.... failure... what a victim I am

fat kid at fat camp

The halls at the Luv a Duv love factory were as dirty as a pirate's coffee machine, and the floors as disgusting as a Chinese Christmas tree. Boy howdy, did it suck to be a janitor there, and boy howdy did it ever suck to be Sam. Wait, no, it wasn't that bad being Sam. At least that's how he thought of it; even the janitors at Luv a Duv Co. were paid well, and there weren't many other jobs out there that were willing to pay for Midnight Psychiatry. Even the work was pretty easy; a few ounces of concentrated hate dissolved even the grimiest of messes,  and the Kiss Removal scraper took care of all the love remnants that made their way around the factory.

It was boring though, and Sam was getting sick of being so pungent and shiftless. Working there was making his soul like the ocean; vast and unsophisticated. Sam grabbed his scraper and started gouging at the floor. The faint smell of Cookie Crisp meant that the love was coming off. He held his breath though; the stuff always gave him a tummyache.

At midnight, he took his break. Usually, he'd head downtown to the Neutralville Loser District. He liked to go to Midnight Psychiatry during his food eating break, but the Psychologist was getting too abrasive and Sam was getting fat from all the Taco Bell. Instead, he took a taxi to the nearest cornfield. Seating himself on the broad shoulders of a grim-faced scarecrow, he looked up at the sky. "Somewhere out there", he mumbled to himself, "somewhere is the lassy of my dreams."

oh dear

Linda put her duster down and wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. The love crystal glowed bright blue in front of her even in the dim red light of her cigarette. The mine was cool enough, but dusting was hard work, and she needed a break.

She sat down on the metaphorically gray box behind her after wiping off a thin film of blue dust. You weren't supposed to sit on the boxes, but no one was around, and she'd only broken three of them this month. Another one wouldn't hurt too much. She pulled her pocket thesaurus out, and opened it to the bookmark. The pages were delicate, and stained with her tears, but she was gentle with them as she read in the dark. She took a drag on her cigarette, and the light in the room got brighter.

The mine was in bad shape ever since the love market had cooled down after the Pathetic Wars. Most of her friends had either quit or been laid off, and she had to move almost a six tons of love a day just to keep her head above water. She stopped reading for a moment, and thought about all the fun, sexy adventures she'd had in the past, the fantastic journeys, the thrilling thrills, and the passionate romances. The time she had learned the greatest lesson life could teach, the time she won a belching contest and saved the vice-mayor, the time she found a puppy while baking cookies. Now those were definitely some interesting, amazing stories.

But that was the past, and her life was over now. Twenty-six, she thought to herself, I'm twenty-six now. Just running out the clock in a haunted love mine. She looked down at the page; it was enough words for today, and she wanted to get this last bit of love loaded before it was time to go home, so she wiped off a tear, closed the thesaurus gingerly, and stuffed it back into her pocket. She stood up, and looked down at the gray box. She pushed an unbearably unremarkable red button on the front of it, but it did nothing. Damn, she thought, must have broken another one. But suddenly the box opened up, and a small arm reached out, wiping the dust off the box before it closed again.

She picked up the feather duster, and went back to the love crystal, brushing the rock at its base to free it from its granite tomb.