SnakeTongue's Micropastas

'' Note: T  his is an anthology of all the micropastas written by SnakeTongue237. ''

Acid
Have you ever taken acid? I doubt that you have. I’m about to try it out in a moment for the first time in my life.

I honestly think that I’m entitled to it, after the shitty life that I have led. Call me what you will, but this is just the way I feel things have to go.

It all started when my wife, Claudia, divorced me a month and a half ago. She meant the world to me, and the idea that she could even consider leaving me was alien in my mind. Then I found out about the affair she had had. A man who I had always considered a high school buddy of mine suddenly became the worst enemy I had ever known. I actually managed to get in a bar fight with that particular person. But what did that solve? Absolutely nothing and all I got was a bloody nose and a broken arm for my troubles. That wasn’t even the worst of it.

What killed me was when she took the kids. That was the blow that destroyed my very life as I knew it. Both of my precious little children were torn from my loving arms to spend their entire lives with a cold hearted woman that could never love them as I did.

I take the acid quickly, before I can change my mind, and then wash it down with a shot of Scotch.

According to the internet, consuming hydrochloric acid is a very effective form of suicide.

The Final Film
I am the maker of over twenty three snuff films. I shit you not.

Now I have been robbed of my youth, and I almost feel guilty for all the terrible things I have done. But then I remember just how profitable this business was, and I regret nothing. You’d be surprised at how many people want the tapes that I used to make. All kinds of people too, young and old, fair and ugly, short and tall, male and female, I guess that some people just have an animalistic side that they have to feed.

In many of the movies, I was the man who was committing these dreadful deeds. I had a whole crew to back me up, and most of the time it was somebody else who was slowly cutting off the appendages of a middle aged female we had managed to abduct, or severing the testicles of a little boy who was never seen again. But sometimes I just couldn’t resist getting my hands dirty. The process just looked so… interesting.

All of what I had was spent far too quickly. I lived a briefly amazing life of drugs and prostitution before it all ran out. I was both a sex addict and a heroin addict, and I was desperate to keep engaging in these activities, even as I lost my money. As of today, the only things I possess are this camera and the knife in my jacket pocket, with which I have made so many quality films. I know that now it is my time to make a final motion picture, and once again, I am the star.

Setting up the camcorder doesn’t take long, I just put it down atop one of the many dumpsters in this alleyway, and before I know it I am looking at myself in the viewfinder. I backed up, making sure I am in the shot, before taking the knife out of my pocket.

It really is a beautiful thing. It’s an Italian stiletto style switchblade with a custom buck handle and a bayonet blade. I’ve used it plenty of times before, and today, I will use it for the last time. I push the release button, and five inches of chromed steel slide out with a satisfying click.

I step forward and press the red button for the last time before lowering the blade to my wrists.

Lost Dog
A couple days ago I lost my dog, and I’m scared to think of what will happen if I don’t ever see him again.

It was a beautiful Sunday morning, and I was in the park, training Rocco. He’s always been such a good dog. I don’t care how many people look at me funny when I’m coaching him. When we were almost done for the day he licked my face excitedly and I laughed before sitting down briefly on a bench and taking a few refreshing gulps of ice cold water.

When I looked up again, he was gone.

I have to admit, I lost it. As soon as I realized he was not in my immediate vicinity, I got up quickly, with my heart thudding. I called his name desperately, but got no response. I went up to random people who I didn’t know and asked them if they had seen Rocco. They all just looked at me helplessly and shook their heads, with pity in their eyes.

When I got home I went straight to the printer and started making posters for a lost dog, complete with a recent picture and phone number. Then, I spent the rest of the day tacking them up all over town. Now I can only sit here and wait for the phone to ring. I have gotten three calls since Sunday, but those were business calls from lonely men, and not one of them had anything to do with Rocco.

As I am reading a book in my living room my cell phone rings, I snatch it up and accept the call. An elderly voice from the other end says “Hello? is anyone there?” With trembling fingers I respond “Yes, I’m right here.” I can hear a throat being cleared before the man on the other end continues, “Ma’am, I think I’ve found your dog.” Relief rushes through me and I say “Oh thank god, please bring him to me now.” There is a slight pause. “Would you like me to feed him before—?”

“No!” I almost shout, “Just get him to me right now… please.” I told the man my address, and he agreed to meet me in fifteen minutes. When he gets here, a senior citizen of about seventy with graying hair who goes by the name Garraty, I thank him profusely before ushering him out the door. Then I turn to Rocco, my ever so faithful mastiff. I lead him down into the basement and turn on the light. The man tied up on the other end of the room instantly begins to scream through the rag in his mouth. It’ll do no good, the walls are completely soundproofed. That’s what he’ll get for lusting away at women who are far too young for him.

I give Rocco the motion, and he lunges forward and mauls the man, just like I showed him how in my training. As the blood flies and the flesh tears, I turn and begin to mount the stairs, going for the pick and shovel I keep in my kitchen cabinet.

Scream Yourself Awake
Everything is terribly surreal. I couldn’t tell you exactly what was happening if I tried. My head is fuzzy, and probably not working to its full capacity.

I hear the muffled voices of men, but I can’t manage to make out a single word. I open my eyes blearily to inspect my murky surroundings. In front of me two men seem to be discussing something in front of a large white van. I try to call out to them, but my tongue feels like a giant slug in my mouth.

This must be a dream. It has all the strange qualities of one. That was for sure.

The man on the right turns and opens the van before beginning to drag a woman out. She looks around frantically. The man on the left is pulling a black object out of his belt. I’ve decided that I don’t like this dream very much, but hopefully everything will change in a moment, just like all incoherent dreams do. One moment you’re in the middle of an important business meeting and the next thing you know you’re streaking in the middle of a crowded subway.

But nothing does change. The man points the black object towards this woman, and before I know it, she is lying on the ground, with a pool of blood forming around her head.

At this point I’m trying to scream myself awake. I don’t like any of this… it’s far too frightening a dream. it’s more of a horrifying nightmare. The only noise I am able to make, however, is a rasp from the bottom of my throat.

One of these men is coming towards me, and I am trying desperately to scream, with my mind reeling in terror. Scream! Scream now and scream as loud as you fucking can damn it! Wake up the whole fucking neighborhood if you have to! Just scream!

The man kicks me hard in the stomach and everything becomes clear. Memories come flooding back in a single rush… the kidnapping that occurred, with me as the victim.

It wasn’t a dream at all. It was just the effects of the drugs wearing off.

Stargazing
My family and I went stargazing the other night. I have to say, it was an experience unlike anything else. My brother had heard that there was going to be a meteor shower that would be visible in our area, and when he told my father, he was all too happy to drive us out to a good location to observe the sky at night. We even resolved to bring our dog, Max, despite the fact that we were missing his leash.

My dad ended up taking a road that seemed to be abandoned. We all questioned him about this, but he insisted that he had gone up this road all the time as a kid, and he knew the perfect place to see the meteors. When we finally got there, nobody was anything short of amazed. He had led us to an open clearing where the skies were beautifully evident. I got to see exactly thirteen bright, streaking meteors as they flashed brilliantly across the sky.

My dad kept trying to scare us all with his petty ghost stories. I guess he thought the mood was right, given that we were all out in the middle of the woods in the middle of the night. While my face was angled upwards towards the sky he told us about an encounter he had with a monster when he was a kid.

“I was only ten years old when it happened” he hissed in a forced whisper, “When I and my good friend saw the beast that lurks in the shadows of these woods. We were riding our bikes down the road just to our left, when we heard a vicious snarl coming from the depths of the trees. When we looked we could see only a pair of large, bright green eyes.”

We all called him out on it, but he swore up and down that his ridiculous stories were true. Even if I did not really believe him, his tales still gave me the creeps. I have to admit that I jumped once or twice when I felt Max brush against my leg.

Eventually my mother got tired and insisted that we needed to go to bed. There was much huffing and complaining, the rest of us had really liked watching the stars, but in the end, mom’s word was law.

It was only when we were driving home that I realized that my dad had kept Max in the car the whole time.