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That's my X-Box & I'll Gouge Your Fucking Eyes Out to Get it

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That ís My X-Box and I íll Gouge Your Fucking Eyes Out to Get it

My only granddaughter, godís most precious and most perfect creation, a gift to me from angels above, asked me for only one thing this Christmas: an X-Box 360. And even though Iím on a fixed income and can barely afford my Zocor and Celebrex, I aim to get her one. Iíve been watching the television and hearing about how theyíre expecting record sales, possibly even a shortage. I called all the local retailers and inquired about putting one aside. But those scum bastard sons of bitches said they couldnít do that. It wouldnít be fair to the other customers they told me. Fair? What about my precious, my sweet granddaughter, my honey? Is it fair to her that she should have to go without?

Is it fair that because Iím on Social Security, some fatherless, rat-tailed little heathen is going to get my babyís X-Box instead? No, it isnít and Iím not going to let that happen. I admit Iím at a disadvantageous position. I shouldíve poisoned all of my candy on Halloween, lowering the demand. Thatís okay.

Iíve still got my driverís license, thanks to the state. What if there should be an unfortunate accident, an unprecedented local tragedy? And at this most special time, Christmas? Oh, itís too horrible to imagine. Almost. Say, a ToysíRíUs massacre. Iíll plow my Lincoln right through the front door and move aisle by aisle, mowing down mother and daughter, father and son indiscriminately. Even if they catch me, Iíll throw on the waterworks. ďIím old, so very, very old and enfeebled, officers. I was disoriented. I thought I was on the interstate in a hailstorm.Ē

I can be methodical, too. It doesnít have to be all in one fell swoop. I can pick the kids off one by one, in the morning on their way to a friendís. Drifting a little too far into the breakdown lane or riding up onto the sidewalk. Or lure some of them into my house to help me with some lifting, with the promise of fresh-baked cookies. My cane sword would go through their soft little bellies so easily

I could waylay a group of them on their way home from school. Iíll gouge out their eyes and spit in the sockets, pull out their teeth and burn their dismembered remains. Then Iíll make some soap from their ashes and cleanse myself ritually with a sponge bath. Or make gift baskets with it instead, little angel soaps. So gentle on the skin it would be. My sister loves getting little soaps for Christmas. Theyíre very popular. I could start my own business maybe, thereíre so many little children around.

This is my warning to all of you out there, hoping, thinking youíre going to get your no-good, gas-huffing, sex maniac child one of these X-Boxes. Iím not farting aroundónot metaphorically anyway. I donít care one whit about sending your babies to hell. If you see an X-Box sitting on the shelves in the next few weeks, keep walking. Or, be a dear and drop it off at my house. My legs arenít what they used to be.









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