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Transient Scripts: Jude
Hello, mother. It's Jude.
I know; I'm calling from a pay phone.
Downtown Erie, that's where I live.
The farm doesn't have any phones. I've told you that.
No, I don't have any money so I can't buy a cell phone.
I don't need money. Everything I need is given to me on the farm.
I work for it.
No, they pay me with things I need.
No, I'm not going to request money instead, that's the whole point. Anyway, I called to check up on you. How are you doing?
Good. I am.
It's taken care of.
METHADONE. You need to get your hearing ch-
YOU NEED TO GET YOU'RE HEARING CHECKED, MOTHER.
I do not mumble. Everyone else can hear me. I do no-
Everyone within two blocks of here knows your son is a junkie.
No, a JUNKIE.
Listen, let's not talk-
Let's not talk about this.
Mother! Did you hear me? I don't want to talk about it.
Shut the fuck up!
Mother…I'm sorry. I didn't mean it.
Are you still…?
I love you.
A Bloody, Stupid Miracle The day we’d cured the human condition was the day I put a bullet through my head and didn’t die. It was also the day I realized how scared I actually was of death, and after hours of muscle ache from holding that gauze against my open skull, after the wound closed and everything went back to normal, I had myself a good old-fashioned brainstorm. How ironic.
But when summer came, everything had fallen to shit. The air scorched my skin and parched my tongue every time I took a breath. The sun glared down on a rapidly-collapsing world, full of the undying bastard children of cruelty and misfortune. What was one to do when their cells regenerated faster than they decomposed?
My feet hit the pavement, now littered with jagged bits of glass to snap at my toes, thoroughly baked by the blazing ball of bitter disdain high overhead. Today was worse than yesterday. Though I’d often wondered the purpose of it anymore, I
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