Ah yes very funny. My mother is many things but that which you claimed in your impromptu MOMMA joke, seems as though you barley were able to fully remember nor postulate even though you've chose that specific limerick'ish a time or twoo many against other's Mother's.

So while it may or may not be true,

We both know for certain

YOUR Mother, as unfuckable as she was and is

Somehow scammed her way into the Gene pool just like Grammy taught her, And, by an absolute near impossibility

Let her 1 non-reptilian 'egg' get woo'd by the literal least likely to fertilize-thee-egg sperm out of the 100s of dozens that weren't allowed to suicide with the rest when they saw what awaited them at the end of the tunnel.

You, won the lottery twice my fellow sperm.

Once, when you figured out how to operate as a single cell organism

Then again

When you made the call that Daddy wasn't tricking all the single cellies with some rusted sock or muddy hole in the ground and that THIS was it! the big chance (with the added bonus of the trip being 75%+ shorter than anticipated for reasons, not really science related like wormholes, but kind of)

So My mother, double breasted & not a fan of any type of Marlboro, yes

she is a what have you

And your's, itShe

Has managed to come into contact with a total of 1 ejaculation in her 25,000+ days here

And my God from that came..

(stares at him waiting for an answer which does eventually come, "me?")

Ah I'm just pokin your eye here ya go buddy. (Hands the well traveled wallet condom he's had in there since that Highschool health class)

Don't go spending it all in one place now

I was winning the battle with fighting back the tears, the lip quivers

So much so I couldn't think of anything to say

In that final moment, all I could get out without barfing up trauma or plain self pity

"See you on the other side..."

As the monitor started screeching about what was already known

"No, you won't"

Schizophrenia doesn't always pass down to the next victim/generation just because it had as far back as the confusing family-tree could prove.

But

The alcoholism that each branch attracted via their eventual termmi/ates tends to be a symbiotic inevitably that has proven to be most useful in very specific little God sends whose blossom's make forbidden fruit feel like an edible lottery ticket you didn't even know you'd been the owner and rightful ingestor to be (should you be hungry for upon the accidental discovery of).

What does this mean in the real world you and these saps have grown attached to?

Waking up find the almost mailed response to a correspondence you didn't know existed, that (you) really should've never even considered starting BUT now really want to know where it all began where it's going and why the hell you've never even kinda remembered reading the response mail from.

For the more digital branches of this tree

Opening an old laptop after finally cracking the password only to find in the browser history that wasn't fully scrubbed proper - some Account on a gaming platform that upon further lucid meddling shows a black market merchant who manages to store wealth in the items bought/+collectable in game while having a transaction History that indicates selling of the rarest inventory items right around all those rough patches you Acted Like A Man and swallowed the stress that needed a chaser that's full circled you now into chasing a rabbit down a hole which started at the Nice Trees Upper middle portion and is leading you into an abyss you're wondering if it'd be better to back away slowly and fill with the bendable branches still growing from the base to feed the hole with unlimited ___

OR

(Insert action done that caused the lapses in time and space you somehow just now are aware of)

Then

For those that this happens to be for example watering the tree with flammable liquids= Pour more + without looking, Pour some directly into and all around the

Gift'ree wHorses mouth that Rabbit tried dragging you deep down into

"Drugs aren't my problem

My problem

Is I'm a creature of habit and haven't taken enough time off consecutively to make those drugs work as effectively as they once did.

Now, the accumulation seems worse than it is because it's being looked at by eyes of a newbie or abstainer whom couldn't handle the total load, and is judging things from their Start From Go perspective

In reality, their pot or 2 a day coffee intake would make the average fool shit themselves silly and have the shit smudged all over their cheeks from the jiittteriing

I don't have a drug problem, I have a consistency problem THAT means I simply follow through more than the average, and need to Procrastinate in my rituals to obtain a better outcome in regards to

X-Ingested v s. X-returnrate"

You know those study-aid pills I've been selling you from my kids scripts were, and I didn't know this ...

' Placebo '. "?

"And you're telling me this, why?"

First off, I'm a peaceful man. So when I see a post that's obviously written by AI, I take a moment to read it and appreciate the saccharine quality of the writing, like a Hallmark Channel movie that's so fucking inoffensive I want to take a bat to the TV.

Now I'm sorry, I lost my temper and that's not right.

The great thing about AI writing is that it's always so positive—the bad guys always come around at the end to see things with renewed optimism, and the endings are always happy endings. (Not what I mean, pervert!) AI writing is so sweet that I can taste it, like a piñata, brightly colored and filled with candy. A piñata filled with all the things I hate and a sign that says "Beat me to a fucking pulp, you dick!" A piñata that prompts me to pick up my bat and slam it. And when the candy sprays across the ground, to go around and beat every goddamn piece until it's an unrecognizable batter of molecules.

So I guess that sums up how I feel about creative writing that's generated by AI and those creative writers (you know who you are, winky winky) who pass it along as their own. Thank you very much. And have a good day. Make it a great one!

12/1/2024

A small town in Idaho, on the outskirts, lives an...artist...of sorts, and meets a reporter who gets more than he bargained for, and the end might come, or will it? MUAH HAHAHAHAHA!!!! From the mind of one of our talents, comes this irresistible Halloween romp. Here's the link to the narration of said romp on Prose. Radio, narrated by Jeff Stewart, who is whereabouts unkown in the States, in a room where he was able to send in the audio of this story by our own WilkinsonRiling.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TqIX7_Ddllg

Also, he asked us to mention this: Another talent here on the site, has a book set for release on 11/22, so go here and pre-order your copy, and give this Appalachian poet some love. He's fantastic!

https://www.finishinglinepress.com/product/in-the-throes-of-beauty-by-kevin-d-lemaster/

Piece feaured in the video:

https://www.theprose.com/post/780635/the-halloween-legend-of-jack-mccarver

To keep the tradition in closing traditional:

And.

As always...

Thank you for being here.

-The Prose, team

Slipping

October 09, 2024

Til’ death do us was always part of the agreement. I watched the monitor in her hospice room. Not today was my only thought.

Not today.

She lay peacefully on her new pillow and crisp linens. Her blood pressure was 60 over 30. Her pulse was 32. Last hour, both were higher.

Last hour, she told me she was feeling fine.

We had planned for this day, although I hoped it would never come. I was to go first. I was the oldest. I worked jobs that should have killed me. She lived the life of the Queen she was (in my mind). No harm would come to her.

No harm ever did.

But, time did instead.

Slowly, ever so slowly, time crept, in plain sight, upon her.

Today, it began its sprint.

Her BP dropped a few more points. Not enough to erase the smile on her face, but drop it did.

I smoothed her silky, gray hair for the last time. I did not need a machine to tell me her breathing was erratic. Her DNR meant we would not be disturbed.

She would pass quietly.

That is what she wanted.

When I heard the flatline of the monitor, I closed her eyes.

She died without pain.

That is what I wanted.