"No offense, but you have no drive, Peter. You just sit around waiting for someone to come tell you what to do next," his future ex said.
"But what about all the poems and stories and paintings I've published?" he countered.
"No, that's different," she said.
"You masturbate too much, Peter. It's disgusting!" she complained.
"That's between God and me," he replied weakly.
"Fuck God," she said, her voice rising, "you'll make yourself anemic!"
"I know," he replied, making a mental note to look up the word 'anemic' as soon as possible.
"You're being too sensitive, Peter. They're just words. This is what people do, it's called talking," she said.
"I'm going to rape your mother in the ass till she bleeds," he replied coolly.
"WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM? YOU FUCKING FAGGOT ASSHOLE!!"
He smiled, "But honey, they're just words."
"I love you so much Peter but if you're not going to make a commitment to getting help than there's really nothing else to say."
"Will you?" she asked after a long, awkward pause.
"No, I won't give anyone that power over me...no way," he answered.
END, she pressed on her cellphone.
submitted at 8:38am
12 July 2009
Peter Schwartz's web: