Thursday, January 13, 2005

Inner Dialogue, Externalized: Take 1

Me: I’ll bet you I can jump across that slick of ice.

Myself: That huge one right there, with the blood-stain? Yeah, you’re on, retard! And the loser has to give the winner a backrub!

Me: Uh… No. That’s kind of weird. How about the loser just has to buy the winner a meal?

Myself: Yeah, great idea! A candle-lit meal with violin’s and French waiters and six kinds of forks. You’re on! Go ahead Jacko, make my day!

Me: Wait, no. Why do you have to be this way?

Myself: What? Okay, geez. Sorry... I’ll throw in the back-rub for free, just jump already.

Me: That's it. I’m just going to go home.

Myself: Alright, I’ll walk you! We’d better hold hands, because it’s very slick and you have soft, supple hands.

Me: Soft, supp—? I’m going a different way than you.

Myself: Really? What a coincidence! I was going that way too! We have a lot in common, you and I. How about I take you out to eat sometime?

Me: I hate you. I really, really hate you.

Myself: *Sigh*… You poor, self-loathing bastard. C’mere big guy.

Update: Inner Dialogue Externalized: Take 1, Epilogue

Me: You were just kidding around, right? Back there at the ice. About the stuff.

Myself: Oh. Yeah. Sure thing. Heh, heh. Just kidding.





Me: So--

Myself: I--

Me: Oh, what? You where saying?

Myself: No, you first. Go ahead.

Me: So do you really think I could've made it across that ice? Because I could have.

Myself: Just let it go man. Let it go.


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