His heart sucked his head down his own throat to have a quick word. A headless man swaying awkwardly down the wrong side of the sidewalk. Each shoulder taking turns moving up then down with perfect timing to every step. A bad mo fo this fucken guy is. People walking by him would even say in passing, "Look at this fucken guy". He was that guy, the guy wearing a leather jacket on a sunny day. A guy that walked like John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever. A guy that had no head, only arms that would sway like he was directing cars at an intersection, instead of a whistle, he swung his keys around his tattooed finger, while whistling a romantic love song sung by his favorite opera. No one seemed to ask where this mother fucker's head was, no one seemed to take the time to notice. They seemed to be too concerned with his energy, his presence, his blindness to his surroundings. He took his keys as if they were a paint brush and swooshed the air adding in a skip to his walk. This brought more looks from the people walking around him. Yes, I said around.....this mother fucker was walking, or should I say skipping down the middle of the busy sidewalk. His eyes staring through his chest plate as if he was trapped in his own body. His chipmunk cheeks fully engulfed with air, as his eyes moved back and forth like a grand daddy clock. His heart yelling at him like a principle scolding a kid for passing love notes in class. His eyebrows dropped and his forehead scrunched down as if to say he understood. This mother fucker was truly listening to his heart.
Beep beep, his car sounded while the doors clicked unlock as he jumped over his door and slid into the driver's seat. This mother fucker didn't even need to lock or unlock anything because his black Firebird had no top, just like he had no damn head. This mother fucker pushed unlock just to make his entrance even more awesome. A guy skateboarding by with his dog saw this preplanned and meditated entrance into the Firebird, and with such disapproval the skateboarder said to himself....."This mother fucker", and then skated on looking for his next victim to mind judge. The headless mo fo looked up his throat in anticipation for what his mind told his hands to do, and that was to pour a gallon of coffee down into his chest plate and into his mouth that was already wide open awaiting for the river of half blood and coffee to enter his mouth. But see..... the drinking process has been reversed. With this mother fucker's head in his chest, that meant the coffee would have to first be poured into his throat to enter his mouth, and then once in his mouth this mother fucker would actually have to spit the coffee out in order for the coffee to reach his belly. This mother fucker fucked up the whole process, making it into his own.
Alanis Morisette was blasting throughout his firebird as one elbow stuck out the driver's seat window, while the other laid on top of the steering wheel like his arm was completely dead. Horns were honking everywhere from other cars swerving out of the way. People were flipping him off with more emotion that the famous Johnny Cash picture. They had every right to in my opinion. This mother fucker was driving down the wrong side of the mother fucken road! An occasional swerve from his driving hand feeling every emotion Alanis was screaming about made him one dangerous mother fucker. His leather jacket flapped from the wind slipping past its dirt shell full of his old boy scout patches and AC/DC buttons from concerts he has been to. One patch was of an old fat lady singing, and it said "She is singing, but this mother fucker is still going". How this mother fucker was even driving with no head is confusing to this day, but it never seemed to bother this mother fucker, so what did he do when a cop passed him......? He waved like a president getting off the plane. His layed back demeanor and confidence in who he was made the cop feel at ease, as the cop passed with a wave in return. You couldn't see this mother fucker smiling, but he was, underneath his shoulders and throat, his head nodded to the 90's songs while a smile crossed his face - ear to ear. The only thing in his way was a heart and a rib cage. The only thing that could ever imprison this mother fucker, is the cage that layed in front of his own self.
He started to chew on his own chest plate. His bloody teeth made his bloody face even more bloody. The hard bones created slivers that stuck into his gums like toothpicks in cheese. This mother fucker chewed like a mother fucker to break free from his own mother fucken cage. He was a prisoner of himself, not from the society he was living in. Happy on the outside, as a battle raged from within. Every time he swallowed his own bones, the bones would move up his throat and out the giant hole where his neck should have been. Bones flew out from the fast moving car, hitting the road like cans attached to a married couples car. He was almost through the rib cage, and closer to his own heart. A heart that always talked to him, but never felt him. This sad mother fucker just wanted to get to know his own heart. His own self.
He screeched up to a fancy coffee shop that looked to be a big company chain of some sort. He hated chains, he always said they had no souls. He preferred local shops, you know...small business. Family run, family principles. This overly clean and too damn happy cafe would have to do. He had been driving for hours with no destination in sight, and a coffee refuel was highly needed. He rolled out from the open top as his snake skinned boots clapped against the parking lot pavement. He flapped his leather coat together as if it was magically going to stay in place. This mother fucker parked in the handicap spot and didn't even know it. Why not you ask.......well, this mother fucker had no head. And I'm not too sure that if he had a head he would of cared either. He only went off emotion, feeling, and heart. A heart he was getting closer to chew by chew. He spun in a circle and clapped his hands. He walked into the coffee shop like he owned the place. He leaned with his walk like a slalom skier. His hands felt his thighs looking for his wallet, making him look like he was dancing the Macarena. He cut everyone in line blindly, even knocking over an older gentleman that was helping his grandson with a toy that fell out of place. The gentleman was startled with a look of "excuse me sir," but it never came out of his mouth. The small child began to cry, as this rude mother fucker started moving his shoulders and waving his hands to the cashier. He wanted an iced coffee, but all the cashier heard was......well, nothing, nothing but shock and the thought that this guy was such a mother fucker. The mother fucker fell to his death right in front of the counter at that very moment. He had finally ate his own heart. He killed himself in the process of trying to get to know himself. This mother fucker was dead. The fucken end.
This Mother Fucker 2016