1st place in Derby #201: Double-Take Derby 13, with 673 votes!
Everywhere I turn, there they are, staring, wearing stunned expressions of mute horror. They know the terrible things I’ve done. They watched it all.
I have my family fooled. My coworkers don’t know my awful secrets. How could they? They’re barely conscious, more like domesticated beasts than men, stumbling through the world distracted, with one eye always on their smartphones, blind to the possibility that evil shares their elevator, that death lunches alongside them, that cruelty manages a team in their fantasy football league.
They don’t see me. Not really. They only see the mask. It deceives them because they are simple.
They’re hopeless. They’re deluded. Their heads are so far up their own butts, they can’t smell the fetid stench of sin. They’ll never discover me, no matter how close they get. They’re like ostriches. With their heads in the sand.
So there’s sand up their butts, I guess. It must be very uncomfortable for them, the grittiness of that, when they walk.
But then there are the outlets.
Look at them, peering at me from every wall, peeking out from under desks, peering slyly from behind bookshelves, their blank eyes fixed on me. They know my guilt. Curse their unblinking gaze! Now at last I understand what it must have been like for Rockwell!
But I know what to do. They’ll be sorry they ever stared at me in silent judgment! I’ll close their gawking eyes, all of them! Why, I’ll take this fork, and I’ll—
Wear this shirt: for a real current, alternative look.
Don’t wear this shirt: in Europe, unless you have the right adaptors.
This shirt tells the world: “I can’t come out tonight, I’M GROUNDED.”
We call this color: The Neutral Slot Is On The Left; The Hot Slot Is On The White
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