Even though I’ve long felt myself agnostic, I’m pretty sure the Devil does exist. Only. instead of having horns or carrying a trident or hobbling around like some bowlegged dock whore on a pair of ungraceful goat legs, he’s actually more of a temporal phenomenon—a moment that hides in plain sight between other moments while taking on some completely pedestrian form. Like for instance, the refrigerator you’re almost certain held the last two pieces of leftover pepperoni pizza, but when you go to fetch them, they’re suddenly and inexplicably gone—like Nietzsche’s God. Or the 80s pop group Naked Eyes.
Creepy, that—particularly when Nick Stahl throws his feet up your coffee table, lights up a Kool Menthol, and mentions in the most blasé manner imaginable that he “hasn’t touched your stupid leftover pizza.”
Zoloft, Mogen David and an episode of “Knight Rider” works, too.
I confess, the Devil made me do it. Good pizza though.
Leftover Pizza? What is this “Leftover Pizza”?
“Refigerator”? Put down the pills son, yer scarin’ the kids.
tw: two… the maximum allowed dosage.
The devil indeed exists and he has his little helpers too.
Rightwingsparkle,
Please label that link: Not Safe With a Mouthful of Coffee.
The greatest trick the devil ever pulled was convincing the….hey! Is that pizza?
Carnivale is flippin’ WEIRD. I liked the first couple episodes though.
I would think the Kool Menthol itself was the Devil. Or at least the work of the Devil…
A blinding realization, like pure truth.
If you touch Jeff’s “pizza” and no one is around to see it, is it still a felony in some states?
Geographical states. Not Klonopin-induced states.
Who the fuck ever wants to be that aware!!! Get some more drugs, man…or at least some hard stuff. Sobriety and lucidity suck!
Nick Stahl was the frontman for Naked Eyes? I’ve definitely got to get my hands on some Klonopin to induce that state of “strange, almost burning lucidity.” Right now it’s all I can do to score enough Pertussin to reach my Cough Control Center.
T/W: “final,” as in: I really hope this stuff isn’t going to be on the final.
Nick Stahl throws his feet on my coffee table and he’s getting his ass kicked, no ifs, ands, or butts about it…