Long Facial Compilation

- second right, and then straight up to "Marine", the little bar, one where they give you leftovers for lunch ... there in front is "Neverland" -

I raise the window without thanking the I do not need more dirty tramp. As a child m'avevano taught not to hurt the injured animals, some change would prolong only the agony of this fucking lame. Accelero just enough to send the car rev up, get up in the clutch shooting and overwhelms the bum scoured in a violent, leaving a trail of blood on the asphalt and rubber, and the heart I left it at home, including old photos and memories consumed sick, doped over the years by too much.

I do a fucking job, and I have to do it well.

I enter garbage in the alley and stepping on cockroaches, I hope to step on something else soon

- Hey you, you asshole ... I'm talking to you! -

What a fucking ass, eager to put an end to a bouncer. It was time, I hurt my knuckles, I itched from the desire di massacrare qualcuno.

- Sei in lista? O sei in lista o ti trovi una donna per entrare. Abbiamo già troppe mazze lì dentro –

- Mi spiace, ma non ho visto belle pollastrelle nei paraggi… a quanto sembra tua madre sta già ciucciando qualche grosso uccello… -

- Ehi, ma che cazzo!? –

Prova a sbattermi a terra sfruttando il suo peso. Pessima idea. Entro nella sua guardia, aperta come una puttana strafatta e gli sradico la carotide a mani nude.
- Però, se proprio lo vuoi sapere, tua sorella mi sta aspettando a fica larga – gli rido in faccia rumorosamente mentre il sangue zampilla dal suo collo grasso, disegnando qualcosa sul muro. Qualcosa di surrealista; mi ricorda il secondo Mirò, adoro quella roba.

Entro nel locale spintonando un po’ di stronzi. Che musica di merda. Un bel cesso intasato, ecco dove sono finito.

Mi siedo al bancone, uno stronzo mi guarda storto.
Cazzo, sono io.
Estraggo il mio fido revolver dal cappotto, abbaiando qualche raffica contro lo specchio. Non mi piace prendere brutti colpi.
Piove vetro.
Le schegge dilaniano qualche tetta svestita e qualche faccia tirata male.
Rido di gusto, quando il barman m’interrompe.
Flaccido, vecchio, il naso rosso a patata, l’espressione rubiconda.
No, non è babbo natale.
- Sonho Spugnaah, in cosha possho escheerle utilee? –
- Ho sete -
- Cosha beeve?
- Fai tu, tanto t’ammazzo lo stesso -
- A benee… allocha ci do sotto con queesto drink -
Mentre il vecchio ciccione fa roteare delle bottiglie in aria, nel disperato tentativo di rendersi simpatico, le luci calano, per poi spegnersi in una morte apparente.
Parte una musica sdolcinata.
Un po’ fuori tempo, le luci risorgono.
Le bottiglie del vecchio baciano il pavimento, struggendosi per quel che hanno visto, la sua mascella sbava sul bancone tra sputi e alcol rovesciato.
E’ Trilli.
Una patatina bionda, tutta da mordere.
Inizia a ballare lasciva, sembra quasi sciogliersi in una padella piena d’olio, un palco dripping with drool, vomited from the failures at his feet. A mass of lost boys in full hormonal storm.
Tinker Bell is dressed as a fairy. Oh God, clothed. She is wearing a green thong minidotato his ass band that appetizing, the bright stars covering the nipples brown, comets turgid ready to explode with desire. Precious stones and a sprinkle of glitter decorate its sinuous legs, perfect, a treasure to dream that maybe does not belong to any sultan. On his back, smooth as silk, the book of golden wings. They seem to flutter in a heart innocent, animated by the star light that goes through his smile, but only a fool could think of really. Those wings fake, plastic, simply because of the bang sculettate now Assatanate, the sweet little Tinker Bell. It will have a maximum of 13 years, I feel sorry for those pigs perverted under the stage.
Rivoli me of drool dripping from his mouth, until my spider sense pinch: I itchy knuckles again.

- It 's that guy! The one sitting at the bar between the glass pieces ... killed him Carl! -

- Ok ... what the fuck is big, the other calls, we can not do it alone -

I knock back the cocktails that good sponge prepared me with love. Sa piss.
him spit in his face, as if to chase the bad taste.
Then I get up, making the stool crashed to the ground and I draw my revolver, ready to bite like rabid dogs.
- offers cashaa - Sponge tells me, shaking like a fucking sick. He's afraid of me, I do not understand, I tried to be good with him. Seeking to calm him: - Give that shit was not so disgusting, it could fit about twice a fucking toilet - but do not have this luxury. I find myself surrounded by many assholes could ever wish for. Fucking a small army. My eyes tear ... I can not hold a devilish laugh, pleased at last the evening begins to turn the right way.


Continued ...