Because, let us be honest.. I don't make any sense at all. And you know that is true. And based on what I've seen, you don't make either. We're both on the same team, even though I'm not sure if we are loosing or winning. But that matters the least. And you know why? Think of the times before, when you we're wondering in that cave, thinking what the hell made you go in there.Think of what you did to survive in that humid, claustrophobic place. Think of how many times you yelled at the running water, pouring through the walls. If you find the answer, you'll know why. Cause you are an intelligent person no doubt about that, but you lack the perspective. You don't push the buttons, you just label them. And that, my friend, is a big difference. Sorry about the friend thing, but I don't think you would like me calling you names.
Let's carry on then.
Do you remember the day I killed you? Wonderful, wasn't it? At least that is how I remember it.. a cold, rainy, August day. It was actually just after my burial. Funny thing, when I died, no movie was playing on Channel 5. You always said I was going to die when Channel 5 broadcasts a shitty movie. But they didn't. You know, the thought of shooting you made me feel weak. That's why I chose to cut your throat. Just like you did to me. Slowly running that blade against my warm skin, blood immediately pouring alongside my neck, all the way to my finger tips. Kind of messy though, I had to change my clothes and take a shower, you stupid fuck. You we're like a pump. Blood just wouldn't stop pouring out of you. But you know what was the funniest thing of all? You forgot to put a rose at my feet, just like you promised. Instead, you put a lily. You knew I hated lilies. But still you had to do it, as if I wouldn't know. I put a rose at your feet, but the problem was I had to glue them back, cause as I was trying to move your body in the kitchen, your feet kept hitting everything in the way, so I had to cut them. No worries, you are intact now. Just like I am, with half of my neck lying somewhere in the closet. Why did you choose the closet as a hiding place? As if you will ever answer my question. To hell with it then. At least you put me in a bag before you dragged me outside and threw me in that hole you called grave. Sorry I didn't do that, the reason being that YOU DIDN'T BUY ANY PLASTIC BAGS !! For fuck sake, where did you put your garbage in? Doesn't matter now, does it. You always forget to do stuff, like doing your laundry, taking the dog out, washing your car. What you always remembered was free beer day at the pub, you bastard. Thanks for calling me every time you wanted to get wasted, I actually enjoyed those times. Even the driving back thing was hilarious, with you puking your guts out at each stop light, cursing your mother for giving you birth in a world infested with alcohol. Man, you were like Jesus, preaching to the waitress that you try to save humanity by drinking all, and I quote, "the mischievous and hell-like substances that took over our children, neighbors, and family !!". You were on a roll that night. Aahh, good old times when we were both alive, not like now buried a hundred feet from each other, and still not giving a fuck. You know what, I should have bought that TV from you, cause I kind of liked it. You had awesome reception, you fat, lucky bastard. But you had to hit the table with your dead feet and break the TV. Not that I would have used it, cause I was dead before you, but still, shame on you for not having any control of your membranes while dead. Didn't you hear of rigor mortis? I did. Anyway, I discovered something very interesting while dragging you to the hole. You had a tattoo, you had a tattoo !! Nanananaaa !! And what a tattoo. Two camels humping each other under a coconut tree. How romantic. But when did you get it? I thought you were afraid of needles. Plus you rarely walked outside the neighborhood cause you thought people hated you out there. Well now they don't have to see that ugly face ever again. Thanks to me, you are in a safer place.. under my mailbox, if I recall. What? It happened thirty fucking years ago, it's normal to forget some details. Jeez! Well yeah, sorry for not keeping my hat on so that my brains would have stood in my head while you were hitting it against the pavement. That would have made a great difference. Now what? You're going to rise from the dead like I did and collect my brain tissue? Fuck off, you insensitive idiot !! I'm fine as I am. At least I can walk on my own feet. What did you say? You can too? Well guess what genius, no super-glue holds for thirty years !! So go on and gather my brain tissue. I bet you can't even reach the grass above. I did, before I killed you so that's one for me, none for you.
Next time, I'll steal your carpet. You know, the silver one with the dolphins. It matches my sofa.