Sometimes I dream about it. Not while I’m sleeping, I mean, just while I’m awake and I’m staring at black eyes in the mirror while the cold morning air makes the hair on my ass stand up. I stand there in a sweater and my nuts in my free hand while the other one is jabbing at my gums. This is the time of day I dream. In the sloshing echo of toothpaste and blood. And I dream about terrible things – or I don’t know, that’s what I tell myself. I don’t know if they’re really that terrible. They’re just, I think. Consequences to, you know, actions. Deliberate actions that have consequently pissed me off. So I’m brushing my teeth with my nuts in my hand and the hair on my ass is trying to ward off the cold and I think all I’d need is an axe. And I don’t mean an axe like the kind you chop down a tree with – I’m thinking an axe like the kind you slam down orcs with or sink Viking ships with. Two blades. Golden lined. Diamond edges. Some twisted JRR Tolkien shit. And I think if I had that axe nothing would stop me from doing it. I could be standing here with nothing but a sweater and my nuts in my hand, if God gave me an axe right now, nothing would stop me from doing it. I would walk downstairs, cringing as I stepped over pebble and rock barefoot and I would kick in her door and walk inside, smack the cigarette out of her hands and slash that cunt right down her skull.
Lucky for her, I don’t have an axe. I’ve got a toothbrush and my nuts. I spit out my toothpaste and gurgle on some lead contaminated water as my girlfriend walks in. Now all I’ve got is my nuts. Just in time.