Wrizziting!

I wrote these pieces I believe either junior or senior year of high school...they're kind of bizarre and shitty but hey, we all have our off days right? 

A Widow’s Deception

 Miss Esmerelda Fritterbottom may very well have more dirty laundry than any other human being on the planet. Not a soul that has entered her massive shanty of a home has come out alive...let alone come out at all. When one of the local townsfolk spots Miss Fritterbottom frolicking at the local mom and pop grocerette, they tend to wheeze repeatedly and scurry on off into the distance. 

Believe it or not, Miss Fritterbottom is not your stereotypical, classic cat lady with the enormous black leather armchair in her living room, facing the wall, more specifically the corner, so if she were to stand in front of the armchair, her face would squeeze into a wedge, like a piece of cheese. And sprawled across the armchair are a dozen or so pussycats, eyes as scarlet and flaring as a beachside bonfire.

Rumor has it that Miss Fritterbottom had brutally slain her husband many years ago, on an icy and blustery night in December, just days before Christmas. Neighbors swore they saw the gigantic and rickety house quiver for hours on the night of the alleged murder. But paradoxically, no gunshots were heard, no yelps were heard, and no blood was spotted the next day. Mr. Drexel Fritterbottom, a local entrepreneur, most infamous for his embezzling and binge drinking, was last spotted in a body bag, which was consequently dumped into a ditch by the paradoxically murky Crystal River on the edge of town. Naturally this deed was carried out by none other than Miss Esmerelda Fritterbottom herself.

Ever since the mysterious murder half a decade ago, the townsfolk of Winter's Hollow have been incessently buzzing about and speculating over why and how the now notorious Miss Fritterbottom put an end to her husband's life.

Some say that Drexel Fritterbottom had an affair with his business partner's skanky wife, the golden haired, gold-digging Marcy McDutch. Strangely enough, Marcy's husband, Otis McDutch, never grew suspicious of his wife. I guess his secret meth addiction knocked that concern right out of first place.

In this present day, Miss Esmerelda Fritterbottom spends her days sitting around in her massive, mildly creepy home, always clad in moo-moos, stockings and sandals, gaudy scarves, enormous oval bifocals, and a Medusa-esque rat's nest posing as her head of hair.

People are simply much too frightened to drive or stroll by Rotten Grape Road which leads straight to Blue Cloud Estate, also known as the Fritterbottom house. No one truly wants to find out what this mentally unhinged, elderly old goat might do to them.

An infamous quote of Esmerelda Fritterbottom that still makes people's blood boil and causes young children to tremble to their very core goes a little something like this, "I'm the woman about town around this parts, and if you cross me, I promise you I will be your worst nightmare."

That's essentially Miss Esmerelda Fritterbottom in a nutshell.

Words from a Cynic

If you ask me why I'm a cynic, I would tell you that that's a goddamn moronic question to ask me. Because first of all, you can approach an answer to that question from a variety of angles, if you know what I mean. In essence, that's a rhetorical question. To be blunt and ambiguous about this, I would say that to get the best, you just must merely expect the worst. Because after all, it's just so terribly painful to be optimistic only to get your heart shattered into a million little pieces. It's just not cool. Especially when it happens incessently. Those discreetly ruthless acquaintances who you thought were interested in you, but only proceeded to relentlessly jab at you, treat you as if you're worth nothing. As if they are far superior to you. Well, this is a load of bullshit. People who act this way, I mean. This is about 90% of what's wrong with this world.

Not to mention if you come across some crummy, hack of a human being who makes it their personal agenda to obliterate you, to metaphorically reduce you to dust particles. These people only pound you lower into the ground. But after this happens time after time, it only becomes easier for you to get right back up. Not to be positive or anythin g.