Why I failed.

     People often ask me why I fail at so many things.  Why I never finish anything.  I actually know the answer to at least one of those things.   I wanted to write for a living.  I wanted to write my story.  I wanted to write like a pro.


     I got about three chapters done of the book when I stopped to read it.  WOW,  I was stunned.  I was reading it and the same question kept popping up.  Where do the F bombs go?   I know in every conversation the seven of us have, up here in her head, we drop F bombs on a minute by minute basis.  How in the F'ing hell are we expected to write a book when the bitch won't let us use the F bomb?


    Me, being the 7th Voice, gets us in a lot of trouble.   We stopped by the church the other day to talk to the head of prayer and money begging.  They had my mouth duct taped shut so fast I didn't even see it coming.  As soon as we walked in the front door of that place I went straight to WHAT THE F IS THIS DAMN PLACE?  Why is there a picture of a man nailed to a cross?  Get me the F out of here.  I was sure we had wandered into the hall of torture.  Panic stricken, 1 through 6 grabbed my ass and slammed the duct tape on me so fast my eyes crossed.


     How in the name of all that is good could the bitch haul us in to a place like that?  I was looking down through my crossed eyes, just to make sure we didn't step on a f'ing snake.  You know, they do that shit in this kind of building.


    Anyway,  other than the obvious reason of "Well Fuck, there are seven of us in here and the bitch can't decide which one of us are right", we just don't always know where to put the F bomb.  That's my story and I'm sticking to it.