Prologue

     Prologue
      It was a strange sensation, the feeling flowing back into your body all at once. The blood hits your brain and you receive clarity that the Dali Llama would cream himself over. Everything snaps into focus and makes sense, why  you got friendzoned , the answer to question 34 on that physics test in July, and even the way to fix social security, but your comprehension ends when the hurt hits you. It washes over you like a wave of week old, slightly warm clam chowder.

        All of a sudden the lights are too bright and any noise is a homeless man, raping your eardrums. Suddenly it's 3 a.m. And you haven't slept in weeks. The feeling starts to ebb at your soul, you can feel it corrupting inside. Then you realize that you're inside of a hard metal suit and up to your neck in something that smells suspiciously like shitty fish. You try to fumble your way to a standing position but movement is all but impossible, every muscle is on fire and every pore five times too big, sucking all around you leaving you too empty or too full to deal with what the fuck is happening. You struggle to breath and gasp like a beached whale just awaiting the TNT that will free you from your prison of pain.
         
        You wait and hope and start to feel the soup make it's way into your mouth, your nose, your ass. You're naked and on stage for your middle school spelling bee, there is a clown with chainsaw tits in one corner but suddenly that doesn't even matter anymore because the school is falling, spiraling down to a education filled death so it won't be late to it's dance recital. You would feel sorry for it ,if only you could get a handle on all the spaghetti spilling out of your fanny pack  ,but it just keeps coming. Just too make matters worse your poison ivy cream is leaking out of your pants again and you swear that the Abraham Lincoln look alike in the corner is shaking his head with disapproval.

        Now everything is see-through and simple, it would be so God damn easy to reach out and snuff the fire inside of them, all of them ,because they're laughing at you. And that... that, is why  you should have looked both ways before you crossed that street that one last time, checked to make sure that candy didn't have those razors in it ,and most certainly why you should have taken those five extra seconds to help the old man across the street.
         
        You look at me and ask how I survived, how I was able to withstand it all. The torture, mental and physical, the pure overwhelming stench of humanity choking me as I lay there willing myself to die. You ask me one more fucking time too tell you how it is I lived in the Chowder suit for three dick sweating days ,and I'll put you there my fucking self!