Last night for J's dinner i made thick cut pork chops. While i was chewing my third bite my jaw did some kind of horrible thing. It always pops and cracks and hurts, but this was different. This was horrible. It felt almost as bad as when it was broken. i went to bed hungry. Today i still can't eat. i can't chew. i can barely stand to talk. i finally broke down and let J call the doctor. i suppose the time has finally come. i can't put it off any longer. i am going to have to try to correct the damage Jackson did.
i was in the basement at Edward's house. i had just gotten home from a party and i was sore and lame. But, as usual, the worst after effect was how i felt inside. i can't explain that feeling very well. So old, so tired, so disgusted and disgusting. Self loathing and resentment and hatred and defeat. And, used, soiled, damaged. *sigh* At any rate, i wasn't happy. So, anyway, i walked into the basement wrapped in a towel so that John could look my back to see if he could charge an additional fee for damaged merchandise. Jackson was shooting pool with another of the runners. When he looked up and saw me standing next to John, waiting for him to finish his hand of cards he ambled over beer in hand. He watched while i took the towel off and threw my wet hair over my shoulder. Benny grunted when he saw my back and muttered something about assholes. John prodded gently but firmly on the soreness and i moaned involuntarily because he caught me off guard. Jackson laughed and poked me hard. And, suddenly that horrible rage overtook me and i spun on my heel to face him. "Get your fucking hands off me, you pussy!" And, that was a mistake. He hit me in the face with his beer bottle and broke my jaw.
And, now, all these years later...
i hope that mother fucker bursts into fucking flames.
