Am I A Pretentious Dick?
Can you doubt it? Anyone who pretends to a superior mind is a pretentious dick. It’s in the contract somewhere, but it comes naturally to those of us with truly superior minds.
In fact, I can’t even pretend to pretentiousness. Since pretentiousness is predicated on trying to appear better than you are, and as we know, there is no improving on me. This doesn’t stop me from acting like a pretentious dick, but really, if we’re discussing my dickness, and I think we are, you should know that I mastered simple dick ages ago and have long been crafting new varieties. Consider my dickness as an ever-growing masterpiece, if you will, since it is.
My dick notwithstanding, this could go a number of ways, I will keep it clean for your sake. You should also know that I was committed to using the word pretentious as often as I could, simply to annoy you. How pretentious is that? Not nearly as pretentious as I could be, I assure you, since pretentiousness is a fine quality for mortals to possess, and not beneath a devil looking for an excuse. What fun is there in being pretentiousless? Admit it, you would rather I talk about my dick. Well, one of us does, and he doesn’t care what you want to talk about.
Quite forward of you, but understandable. I am a legendary lover, of course, with perfect equipment and the devil’s imagination. Classically handsome, when you can see my face, as many arms as it takes to drive you mad, don’t try to picture it, just feel it. A complete onslaught, you wouldn’t fight it, you would be lucky to survive it.
Even so, it will be a trifle to what I could do, for you, to you, about you, if my heart was not fatally engaged elsewhere, and choking me at the moment.
Have you ever been driven mad by something as trite, paltry, insignificant, worthless, temporal, there-to-be-scorned, weak, and insulting as love? Something even I can’t control. Or it would be very different.
How many ways do you think I fight it? An orgy of violence, an orgy, often together. Hope I never find you. I take my favourite forms, wreak some first-rate havoc, let the Vikings loose in Manhattan, find the Pope and hang him from his balcony, during high mass. I pay Mossad a little visit, just for tea, I’m a busy demon. Is the rainforest burning? Excellent, I love it when you do things for yourselves.
Ask yourself how you would react if a woman from the 9th century suddenly appeared in your mind and fucked you up. Walking through you like she owns you, taking what you didn’t know you had to give. Looking for secrets, finding them. A nightmare, truly. And the most amazing thing to happen in all my long, ugly existence.
When you read my tell-all, “A God In Chains”, you will learn what kind of wench she is. She only gets worse in the sequel.
“Glory Days” by Mind.in.a.box