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The following part of this blog entry is pure fiction. No relation to existing people or events is implied.

Καρδιά μου καημένη (short story)

by drs. Efthimia Dilpizoglou (c) 2014 all rights reserved

You can see the back of the head of the blogger right there at the very front. You’re glad you don’t have to see the front because she’s even uglier than you are. Her hair has the same colour as your own. Female nerds like this one should be put up against the wall and shot, they are an offense to the senses. Your life would be so much easier if you never had to look at people like this. If you had an axe you would’ve smashed her head to pieces, if you had a gun you would’ve blasted her ugliness away, if you had a bow and arrow you would be LARPing you’re William Burroughs. You swallow back your spit to calm yourself down. Lubing your throat so that το Γρύλισμα can slide down into your chest and have fun inside you. Το Γρύλισμα emerges from your chest Alien-style with your still beating heart in it’s fangs and jumps over the heads of the people ahead of you towards the front row where the blogger is sitting. Το Γρύλισμα stands before her, looking up at her like a puppy dog and says: “I think you are awesome. It was about time someone wrote something like that. Damn straight! Not many people hold on to their principles the way you do. I wish I had flowers but I think you will appreciate what I got you instead.”. The blogger doesn’t even look up because she is always writing. Το Γρύλισμα tosses your beating heart onto her lap. The blogger jumps up and screams, everyone is staring at her now. Not that anyone else wants to look at her but a person shouting like that is hard to ignore. Your bleeding heart falls onto the floor, no one notices, they only see a blogger up on her chair with a huge bloodstain on her shirt losing it. There’s the inevitable person in the back hissing “Shhhhh!” like it’s a GawdDamned library. The blogger runs out the room, screaming as she flies down the stairs. A fair skinned young girl like the ones that always appear in your dreams, less so in your movies, picks your heart up from the floor and with the skill of a pro basketball player passes it to you, straight into the gaping hole in your chest. You want το Γρύλισμα to toss this girl onto your lap. The girl asks, “Τι μαλακίες είναι αυτές επιτέλους; Σου αρέσει να παίρνεις βραβεία για τις μαλακίες σου;” You stare at her in disbelief. “Τι σημασία έχει να μου δίνουν βραβεία για τις μαλακίες μου όταν δεν μου επιτρέπεται να μαλακίζομαι στις ταινίες μου; Δεν μου επιτρέπουν καν πια να κυκλοφορώ γυμνός στο ίδιο μου το διαμέρισμα. Βραβεύομαι για να λογοκρίνομαι και να καταπιέζομαι;”

“Σιγά την λογοκρισία! Σιγά την καταπίεση!”. Hanging from a lamp on the ceiling το Γρύλισμα brings down the house, landing on your face with it’s gargantuan Jabba sized ass, flattening you before you even notice what’s happening. “ΑΥΤΟ ειναι καταπίεση, stupid! Σου αρέσει απ’τον κώλο;”


The Boy – Δεν
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το Γρύλισμα appears courtesy of ΜΟΥΣΙΚΟ ΚΙΝΗΜΑ: (ΜΑΥΡΕΣ) ΤΡΙΧΕΣ.



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