Have fun staying poor

chakingo@newsletter.paragraph.com (Chakingo) — Wed, 25 May 2022 07:43:46 GMT

After all the cat sex I can’t think. There is that one grand big bang, God being present, stars being born. Then the vast emptiness of space, the freezing loneliness of insignificance. She always wants to go again. I’ll hit the streets looking for something to break the routine, a cure to my mediocre mindset, a drug served as a lightning bolt of creativity.
I don’t have any money though, damn thieves. Made me believe I’d be retired on a paradise beach by now. Instead of recycling cans, counting calories, working for the mentally ill.
For a little while it used to come packages in the mailbox, but then one package never showed and I was paranoid for months on end thinking the cops snatched it. They never called though, but I’m stuck looking for someone suspicious.

Cat sex in Goblin town

chakingo@newsletter.paragraph.com (Chakingo) — Thu, 19 May 2022 08:51:37 GMT

Buy this kitty they said. They are a limited breed. If you don’t have one you will miss out on life-changing generational wealth. You as a Wassie have special rights to claim one as your own before they hit the Chinese wet market So I was like, “Wtf, I might as well burn some money, it would just be spent on degenerate play to win card gambling anyway” You had to buy the cat in the bag though, and when I finally came home and opened that bag I understood why there was no buyer’s remorse policy.
She was purple, had horns, bat wings and pitch-black dead eyes. There was also a teddy bear in there. There was a shine to him, like he had a life of his own.
There was a barrel out front of my shack it was not yet too late to tie the bag up, cut my losses, go outside and drench the bitch.
Then she said, “Wanna fuck?”