In a Cage…

“Do you ever notice the diseases floating all around you? Going in and out of your lungs, landing on your face, or picked up by your hands as you touch random objects for pleasure without knowing the consequences? Of course, you don’t just like you don’t notice the center for disease shitting in your backyard or laying on your lap as they breathe, droll, and paw all their sickness all over you. Think I didn’t notice the hairs? Thought you got all of them when you left the house today? Wrong. Nobody wants to admit. No, I’m sorry no one wants to accept that they are surrounded by disease. But they must and they should. Germs, disgust is everywhere. Goddammit, it’s everywhere throughout our bodies, on our clothes, across every surface, and I say it is time that we get rid of it. How can we not have gotten rid of it all by now?”

“Are we not civilized? Are we not able to travel to distant planets in sterilized space capsules? Yet, here on earth in our own homes no less we live in disease. We live with this sickness and death. The madness of it all has long since taken me over, but why hasn’t it taken the world over? How can it not? How can these people stand to be around such filth every day of their lives? I can’t take it. I can’t stand for it any longer. I must find a way to stop the disease I thought to myself. I thought to myself long and hard until I found a way. I found a way to help everyone, but they called it sick. They called it crazy. It was nothing more than just a little bleach. A little bleach to stay alive never killed anyone. I only wanted to live don’t you see? Doesn’t anyone see what I have done? Don’t you see what I’ve discovered? I found a way to help them. Each and every one of them.”

“But no, they didn’t want my help. They only see what they want to believe and that is the sickness. That is the disease taking over, rotting their brains, not mine. I was the normal one until they infected me with their problems, their diseases, and look at me now, sick. I have become sick, riddled with disease, overcome by their sickness.” He smashes his head into the shatter proof glass of his cell. Blood begins to drip from his head. “I’ve begun to lose sight of what is real of what will keep me alive. I wanted to live forever, but you? They took it away. I want my fucking bleach doctor. I need my god damn bleach.” Blood begins to smear on the glass as he smashes his head into the glass over and over. “They took my chance of any kind of life away. Now I am waiting to die. Waiting to die inside my cage.” He slams his head once again into the glass. Pressing his head into the glass. Blood slowly makes its way down the glass as his eyes come into focus. His eyes wide, insane, “Still want to know how I am doing today, Doc? I could be so much better… With a little bleach.” He laughs.

M.T. Billings

Don’t forget to wash your hands. Sickness never sleeps and neither should you. Be safe and wash your damn hands. In the Twilight Zone things can always go from bad to worse… (eerie noise… he have a low-budget here at Is That A Funeral?) People disgust me. Most of all Layne. That monster is one tissue box and a trillion dollars from being Howard Hughes. Also if someone could add something to the prompt box that isn’t fucking horror. That would be great. Some of us like to write about other shit.

Merch… Teespring… Books… Amazon… Broken Thoughts… Twitter

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